


It's Only Ever Been You

by JesseNotJames



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Dad Ben, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Florist!Rey, Fluff and Angst, Forever My Girl Inspired AU, Forgiveness, Han Solo is a grandpa, Happy Ending, I meant for it to be funny, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, I’m sorry this started out so sad, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mom Rey, Not Safe to Read If You’re Triggered By Pregnancy, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Addiction, Reylo Baby, Rockstar!Ben, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Unapologetic References to the movie Tangled, Unsafe Sex, WHERE DID ALL OF THESE ONIONS COME FROM, and I'm going to give him one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 163,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesseNotJames/pseuds/JesseNotJames
Summary: Five years ago, on the day of his wedding, Ben Solo ran away to California to pursue a career in music.But now, after an unexpected death brings him back to his hometown in Upstate New York, Ben will come face to face with the only woman he's ever loved - as well as the daughter he never knew he had.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1066
Kudos: 1171





	1. Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the movie Forever My Girl, and the characters belong to Disney.
> 
> I write to music, so each chapter will be titled after a song.
> 
> This one is "Hide & Seek" by Amber Run.
> 
> Enjoy.

His hotel pillow was one of those expensive ones.

The kind that formed to the shape of his head—so soft and supportive, if not a little firm.

Ben wished the fucking thing would suffocate him.

With a low groan, he reached over to the nightstand, patting around for his phone.

Then, once he felt it, grabbed it, and turned it—he squinted to see what time it was.

**11:07 AM**

_Fuck. Is that pacific? Or eastern?_

He let out a gruff cough and fell back onto the bed. His black hair matted to his forehead; his pale, tattooed skin shining with a sheen of sweat.

He had eleven missed calls in his notifications. Six from his best friend and drummer, Armitage Hux. One from their manager, Peter Snoke. And four from two different unknown numbers that he didn't recognize. He didn’t bother clearing them out, and he was even less interested in calling any of them back. Especially Hux, who was just two rooms down the hall. So, instead, he dropped his phone on his chest and draped an arm over his face to block out the sun. Hoping to steal a couple more hours of sleep before he had to be at the airport.

He was the frontman for a popular, heavy metal band called The Knights of Ren—who were currently in Philadelphia on the east coast leg of their “Let the Past Die” tour, with another show scheduled for tomorrow night at Fenway Park in Boston. Fenway fucking Park. If someone had told him, five years ago, that he would be selling out stadiums, then he would've never believed them. But their debut album, _Don’t Be Afraid_ , went platinum in the first week of it’s release, and their song, _Save My Soul_ , stayed at number one on the Billboard charts for months before being replaced by another one of their hit singles, _Strike Me Down in Anger_. And from there, The Knights of Ren soared to stardom—gracing the cover of magazines, having their songs appear in major, Hollywood blockbusters.

They even won a Grammy for Best Rock Album, just last year, for their fourth studio album, _Let the Past Die_. 

An award that he had famously drank Patron out of at an after party.

“ _Kylo fucking Ren_." A smooth, female voice broke through the silence, so airy and confident and eager to be alluring.

Ben lifted his arm off his face, cracking one eye open.   
  
_Fuck!_

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up.”

He was hoping that maybe this was one of those sleep paralysis dreams, where his mind was awake but his body wasn’t— and that the half-naked woman standing at the foot of his bed was just a really fucked-up hallucination, instead of an actual person.

But when she slipped the hotel bathrobe off of her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, Ben knew he wasn’t going to get that lucky.

“You wanna go for round two?” She started to crawl towards him, causing Ben to quickly spring up. Attempting to regain some distance. His back pressing against the headboard; the bedsheet falling to his hips. “Or do you need me to suck your dick first?”

“No, that's—“ He shook his head. “I’m good.”

“You sure? Because I don’t mind. You have a _really_ nice cock.”

_Jesus Christ._

What _was her name, again? Becky? Betty? Baylee?_

“Bazine,” She answered with a fading smile. 

_Shit_.

He said that out loud.

“I’ve actually got to head out pretty soon.” Ben said as he smacked his mouth, trying to work up some spit. His eyes darted around the room for a bottle of water, knowing that there had to be one around here somewhere. Surely to _fuck._ “I can call you an Uber, if you want.”

She leaned up on her knees. Eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you fucking serious? You’re kicking me out?”

“I am. I’m sorry.” He may have been a scoundrel, but he wasn’t an asshole. “It’s just— I’ve got to be at the airport in a few hours. And then I’ve got this thing at noon.”

It wasn’t a lie. He _did_ have a thing at noon. He needed to figure out why the fuck Hux had called him seven thousand times whenever he could’ve just sent a text.

"Unbelievable." She glared at him as she climbed off of the bed. “You’re a real piece of fucking shit, you know that?”

Ben scoffed, his jaw clenched. “Yeah, I know.”

Boy, did he know.

“Does _Rey_?" Bazine shot back, glaring at him.

That got his attention. His head snapping over to her. Suddenly wide awake. "What?"

"Rey." She grimaced as she picked up her bra, then her panties. Putting both of them on in an angry rush. "The fucking name you wouldn’t stop moaning last night! Does she know that you're a piece of shit too?"

Ben stared at her. His chin wobbling. “Better than anyone.”

His phone started vibrating — causing a drunk picture of Hux, from two years ago, to appear on the screen. And Bazine stopped dressing long enough to look at him. Her brows pinched.

"You might wanna answer that." She spat coldly. "Might be her.”

" _It's not_ ," Ben whispered, mostly to himself—with just enough misery in his voice to make his chest tighten. Then, he swiped left, answering the call, and brought his phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

“Are you in your room?”

The question came out quick. A little _too_ quick. So, he knew, _immediately,_ that something was wrong. Because Armie Hux couldn't hide his fucking emotions if his life depended on it. His voice coming out breathless and strained. Almost choked.

Ben glanced around, frowning. “Yeah, why?”

“I’ll be there in five.”

Before he had time to ask for ten, the call had disconnected.

_What the fuck did I do last night?_

He could piece together parts of it: the concert, the sold-out crowd, drinking backstage after it was over. Then, he had went to some nightclub in Downtown Philly where his friend, Mitaka, was DJing. But after that, everything was a blur.

He didn’t even remember coming back to the hotel, and he certainly didn’t remember fucking Bazine.

Speaking of which, he opened up the app and booked her an Uber.

Once the ride was scheduled and paid for, he tossed his phone onto the bed and stood up, naked as the day he was born, and joined her in the hunt for their clothes — stepping over a cum-filled condom and grabbing a pair of dark jeans with the belt still in the loops.

He slipped them on, not bothering to fasten the button, or the belt, and then ran a hand through his hair, wondering if whatever Hux had to tell him could wait long enough for him to shower. Or, in the very least, take a piss.

He scratched the back of his neck, pointedly ignoring Bazine as if that would somehow make her leave a little faster. Or make him forget that she was ever here to begin with.

Not that he remembered any of it anyway, but still. Just waking up, seeing her, and knowing that he had done it _again_ made him want to claw his skin off. Every layer of it, down to the fucking bone.

"You're a great fuck. I'll give you that." She snarled, making a compliment sound like an insult. "But that's the _only_ fucking thing I'll give you."

Ben pressed his lips together, raking his tongue over his teeth, nodding, then made his way over to the door. His fingers wrapping around the handle and turning. He didn’t even look at her as she yanked her purse off the floor, then searched for her other shoe, before stomping towards him with both stilettos in her hand.

“I hope she cuts your fucking dick off,” she said as she passed by him, walking out into the hall.

Ben let out a long sigh as his wrist flicked the door shut, listening to it slam. Then, he stumbled forward, pressing his forehead into the back of it—his palms spread out, his eyes squeezed shut—wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

He'd like to say that this was the first time that he'd slept with someone whose name he couldn't remember. But Ben Solo was a lot of things, and a liar wasn't one of them. This happened more often than it should. Not every day. Or even every month. Sometimes just once a year, like an itch that needed scratching.

But it _did_ happen. 

And Ben hated that it happened, because none of them were _her._

He didn't deserve to think about her. Not after what he did to her. And especially not when his one-night stand wasn't even out of the fucking hotel.

Yet, there she was, on the back of his eyelids, just as beautiful as she had been the last time he saw her — with her hair thrown up in a bun and this big, toothy grin on her face. He swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering the way her freckles always darkened in the summer, or how her nose used to crinkle when she laughed. _God, he could still hear it._ Her laugh. The sound flowing right through her, so effortlessly melodic and perfect. 

_She_ was perfect. 

The best fucking thing that had ever happened to him.

And he had spent every single day, for close to five years, wishing that would've just walked into that church. 

But a quiet knock on the door reminded him that he didn't.

And when he stood there, hoping to cling to her memory for just a little longer, that knock turned into a bang. One that seemed to vibrate through his skull until he had no choice but to reach down to the door handle and pull it open—finding Hux standing out in the hall. 

Hux had his hand over his mouth, rubbing back and forth, gripping his face so hard that his fingers were digging into his skin—and his cheeks were flushed a bright crimson. But it was the tears in his eyes, round and full and obvious, that had made Ben's heart start to race. Because in their nineteen year friendship, there had only been _one_ time where he had seen Hux cry.

Just one. 

The day his father died. 

“Arm, are you alright?” Ben furrowed his brows, taking a step back to let him into the room. 

When Hux eased past him, somewhat stumbling, Ben shut the door, then walked over until he was standing right in front of him. His head slightly tilted, waiting for an answer. Yet, it was obvious, by the way that Hux's face had twisted into a frown, that he couldn't quite bring himself to give him one.

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Did something happen?"

Hux choked through a sob, nodding his head, before looking over at him. "Han called." He told him as gently as he could. "He tried to call you, but you didn't answer. So, he called me. And I don't—I don't know how he got my number. But—"

"What did he want?" Ben cut him off. His throat moving through a swallow. "Because if he just called to tell me—"

"Leia died, Ben." Hux said in a strained whimper, wiping his face. "She died this morning."

It felt like every drop of blood in Ben's body had suddenly solidified. His knees nearly buckling. " _She what_?" He whispered, slowing backing away from him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry.”

"I mean, are you sure. Are you sure that's what he said?"

Hux nodded, tears falling to his chin, then dripping to the floor. “Yeah, buddy, I'm sure.”

“Wait—H-How?”

"Han said she’d been sick for awhile."

Ben heaved out a breath, then tried to draw in another one, only to have it catch in his throat. "How long?

"About two years."

"Did you—Did you know?" 

Any other time, under different circumstances, that would've been insulting. But Armie knew that Ben wasn't thinking clearly, if he was even thinking at all. So, he didn't let it offend him. 

"I would've told you, if I did. You know that."

Ben bobbed his head, running a hand through his hair. "Should we—Should we send something? Flowers, or? I—I don't know what to do, Arm. But I have to do something. I can't just—"

“Ben,” Hux stepped forward, his voice stern but soft, stopping him. “It’s not too late. I know what you're thinking. But it's not.”

“ _Yes, it is_.” He whispered so softly that it was almost inaudible.

Hux eased towards the bed, picking up Ben’s phone, and then carried it over to him, holding it out. “If it was, then he wouldn’t have called.”


	2. The Way I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short, flashback sequence of Rey at the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for your encouraging words, and I'm so happy that you are all just as excited about this as I am! This story is mainly about Ben and him finding his way back to his family, but I plan to include a few chapters, here and there, that focuses on our other favorites and how him leaving affected them.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "The Way I Do" by Bishop Briggs.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Five Years Ago**

_I’m Rey... Rey Solo._

_Reina Sofia Solo_

_Hi, I’m Rey... Rey Solo._

She had been saying those words since she was fourteen years old, knowing that one day she would be able to mean them.

Call it a hunch, or an intuition, or even a _feeling_ , but when a girl knows, she knows. And for Rey, the one thing that she had always been absolutely certain of... was that she was in love with Ben Solo.

And now, after six years of waiting, she was going to marry him.

She was standing in front of a full-length mirror in the basement of the First Baptist Church, turning from the left, then to the right, admiring Leia’s handiwork. The dress couldn’t have been more perfect, with lace sleeves that hung off of her shoulders and a figure-hugging skirt that spread around her feet like melted candle wax. It was so elegant and graceful, and if it weren’t for Finn spending over an hour on her makeup, then Rey would have cried just looking at it. But apparently tears could ruin the glue on her false lashes. So, instead, she just smiled.

“It’s so beautiful, Leia.” She breathed in deeply, smoothing her hands down the fabric around her waist. “He’s going to love it.”

“He better,” Leia snorted, unable to hide her smile. “Now, you need something blue.”

Rey turned around to face her. “Something blue?”

Leia nodded, “Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue.” She waved her hand around in a circle, gesturing the rhyme. “Four good luck objects for every bride on her wedding day. You see, here, you have something old.” She told her, pointing at the gold pins fastening the flowers to her hair. “These belonged to my mother, Padme. And you should already be wearing something new. Am I right?” Leia smirked suspiciously. 

Rey’s eyes widened to saucers, thinking of the sheer, lace panties that Leia had snuck into her bag. The ones that Ben was expected to take off of her later, even though they had done _that_ particular activity already. 

Several times, in fact. 

“Yeap.” She told her nervously. “I am _definitely_ wearing something new. Something that I have absolutely, in no way, worn before. Or that Ben has ever seen before.”

“Oh, please. I may be a relic, but I’m not a fool.” Leia laughed playfully. “I know that you and my son have sex. Han and I couldn’t wait either. But as for something borrowed,” she said as she walked over to the table, digging through her purse and pulling out a long, velvet box. “I’m going to want this back.”

Rey waited curiously, watching as Leia opened the lid. 

“Han gave me this necklace the day that Ben was born,” Leia continued as she picked up a simple, teardrop pendant on a thin, silver chain and let it hang from her fingers. “And it seems to me like this is a fitting moment for it to be worn again.”

“Oh, Leia, I can’t...”

“You can and you will,” she insisted, unfastening the clasp and walking around behind her before she could protest any further. 

Rey moved her hair off of her neck, careful not to move any of the pins, and fought back tears as Leia put the necklace on her. 

She had never known a mother’s love before she met Leia.

Her mother, Jyn Andor, and her father, Cassian, had both died in a car accident when she was three years old, and her grandmother, Lyra, had died not long after. Leaving her with her maternal grandfather, Galen, until he passed, just last summer. So, she had never experienced maternal affection until she started dating Ben, and Leia had welcomed her with open arms from the moment she walked into their lives. But even though she would have given anything to experience this day, this moment, with her own family, she took comfort in knowing that she wasn’t alone. That she was surrounded by a whole town of people that loved her. People that wanted to be there for her, and for Ben.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” Leia came back around in front of her. 

Rey didn’t even realize that she _was_ crying until she felt Leia’s thumb gently brush beneath her eyes, wiping away the wetness.

“When I said that you needed something blue,” Leia gave her a knowing smile, cupping the side of Rey’s face. “... I didn’t mean you.”

Rey leaned in to her palm, closing her eyes, and then with a deep sigh, she nodded, knowing that her family would want her to be happy - especially today.

And she _was_ happy. She was more than happy. She was an hour away from marrying the love of her life, an hour away from walking down the aisle and seeing Ben’s wide, dimpled grin waiting for her at the end of it. How could she be anything _but_ happy? 

Especially when she was so close to starting a family of her own.

As Leia retreated back to the table, putting away the box, Rey let her eyes drift over to the doorway, surprised to see Finn, Poe, and Rose standing out in the hall in a tight huddle. She could hear them whispering, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. But from the looks of it, they were arguing about something. Finn had his hands on his hips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Poe had this arms crossed over his chest. And if Rose frowned any harder, then she would dislocate her jaw.

Rey reached down, gathering her dress, and made her way over to them, wanting to know why they seemed so upset.

Was something wrong with the music?

Did the photographer cancel at the last minute?

Had there been some sort of delay that she didn’t know about? 

“Everything alright?” She asked them with a smile, standing in the doorway of the nursery-turned-salon. 

Rose looked over at Poe, who in return looked up at Finn, who quickly shook his head, letting them both know that he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. Then, it was decided, by unspoken glances, that it would be best if she heard it from Rose. 

“Rey,” her maid-of-honor stepped forward, inhaling sharply.

“What is it? Is something wrong with Ben? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Rose assured her, reaching out to take Rey’s hand. “Ben’s fine. He’s just...” She stared down where their fingers were joined, brushing her thumb across Rey’s knuckles before looking back up at her. “Sweetie, he’s not coming.”

“What?” She said in a quiet whisper, feeling her heart clench.

“He left.” Rose frowned. “He left about an hour ago. He’s not coming.”

“That can’t... That can’t be right.” Rey pulled their hands apart as she folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. “This has to be some sort misunderstanding. Ben will be here.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Rose placed a hand on Rey’s forearm, rubbing the sleeve of her dress in an effort to soothe her. “But we’re here for you. And we’re not going anywhere.”

Rey stared at the three of them in a daze, her lips parted, her breath coming out in slow bursts, and she stayed like that, frozen, until her pulse started pounding in her ears and her vision blurred. She wanted to say something, to tell them that they were wrong, that she knew Ben better than anyone, and that he would be there. That he loved her and wanted to marry her just as much as she wanted to marry him.But the words seemed to turn to dust in her mouth, and the last thing she heard before the room went black was Finn calling her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Rey. He'll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.


	3. I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben goes home to Chandrila, but not without a little self-loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the Ben Solo pain train! 
> 
> The song for this chapter is "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" by Elton John. 
> 
> It's one of my favorites, and I plan to have it reappear later in the story. 
> 
> (In this house, we stand Elton John)

Ben staggered out of the elevator and into the hotel’s underground parking garage at exactly 3:23 PM, holding his leather jacket in one hand and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the other. It had been close to four hours since he had learned about Leia’s passing and it was obvious, by the sight of him, that he had seen better days. His hair was dripping wet and matted to his forehead like strips of dried tar. His black, long-sleeved Henley was inside out and his boots were unlaced with the strings dragging. But he had showered and he was dressed. And that had to count for something.

“Where the hell have you been?” Peter Snoke snapped as he stood near a black, Audi Q8, flanked by two, surly bodyguards. “We’re supposed to be on a flight to Boston in twenty minutes. The plane is already waiting on the fucking runway.”

Ben didn’t say a word as he stumbled towards him, bringing his middle finger to his face and pushing his Ray-Ban’s further up the bridge of his nose. Hux was following along behind him, as sober as a judge, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his AirPods in. There wasn’t anything playing through the speakers, but the presence of them kept his passive aggressive manager from talking to him. Which was usually why he wore them to begin with. 

They hadn’t told Snoke what had happened, or that there was a reason that Ben had gotten shit-faced drunk in the middle of the afternoon, because it had been decided, despite Hux’s objections, that they would continue the tour and go on to Boston as planned. 

So, there wasn’t anything to tell him. At least, nothing that he cared to know.

“Just get in the damn car,” Snoke grimaced, his nose crinkled from the stench of aftershave and alcohol. “And for God’s sake, put that away. I think you’ve had enough.”

Ben passed by him in silence, his shoulders slack, and then climbed into the back seat of the Audi. His massive form leaning over onto the central console just as Hux opened the opposite door and slid in beside him. 

He hadn’t let Ben out of his sight from the moment he told him about Leia, too afraid of what he might do if he was left alone. 

After nineteen years, Hux like to think that he knew Ben pretty well. And he knew that he had a heart, and right now that heart was broken. And when his heart was broken, he became even more reckless and unpredictable than he already was. 

But out of all of ways that Ben could have reacted towards the death of his mother, and there were several, Hux had never expected him to want to continue the tour. He had tried to convince him to cancel, or at least postpone, the show in Boston and give himself time to mourn, but after spending over an hour in a ransacked hotel room trying to change his mind, he didn’t even put a dent in it.

“ _I can’t tell you how to grieve, Ben._ ” He had told him. “ _And I can’t tell you what to do. If I could, then I would, but that’s something that you’re going to have to figure out on your own. But I will say that grief and pain and loss aren’t something that you can just ignore until they go away. Because they don’t go away. That emptiness in your chest, that heaviness in your eyes, will always be there. It’s a part of being human. And it fucking sucks. God, it fucking sucks. But it’s inevitable. Losing someone is inevitable. Suffering and regret and guilt and pain are all inevitable. And you can hate it, and you can rebel against it, but you can’t pretend that it isn’t real, or that you don’t feel it. Because you do. And denying yourself the moment, or the time, to heal from that pain will only give you more of it._ ”

His advice had been sound, but by that point, Ben had already become fully immersed in misery. Growing rigid and hollow and emotionless. Refusing to speak, let alone listen. Falling into a pit of self-loathing and silent repentance. And after that first shot of whiskey had burned down his throat, he was already pouring himself another. Chasing that sweet, sweet numbness as if it were the only thing that was tethering him to the ground.

He didn’t even feel human anymore. He was just existing while the rest of world continued to spin around him, moving on as if his mother wasn’t dead.

But Leia _was_ dead. 

She was gone. 

And Ben couldn’t even remember the last fucking thing that he had said to her. Not that any of that mattered now. Besides, what right did he have, conjuring up old memories, something that might make him feel like less of a bastard, while his mother was lying cold in a morgue? He hadn’t seen her in years, ignored every single one of her calls. Even changed his number to keep her from having it. 

He didn’t deserve to grieve her, and he damn sure didn’t deserve to miss her. 

“ _But I do_ ,” he thought to himself, swallowing the lump in his throat.

His personal driver, Temmin Wexley, adjusted the volume on the radio, checking the time and waiting for the signal to lead their three car convoy to the airport. He had worked for Ben for the past three years, loyal and dependable, a family man with a wife and two, beautiful daughters back in Los Angeles, and he had proven, more than once, that could be trusted with discretion. 

“Hey, Snap...” Ben called out quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “I’ll give you twenty grand if you drive us to New York.”

Hux swung his head around, eyes narrowed in surprised confusion.

“You got it, boss.” Snap nodded as he threw the Audi into drive and took off without giving it a second thought.

\---------

The first person that Ben had ever lost was his grandfather, Anakin.

And, to Ben, the only reason that the moon hung in the sky was because Anakin Skywalker had put it there. He had looked up to him, wanting to be just like him. To be able to understand and embody the many intricacies that made life worth living. To be himself, his true self, and to embrace his dreams and his ambitions, even if they seemed inconceivable to the people in their small-town.

But more importantly, Anakin had invested time into Ben, into his love for music. And to a little boy whose father was always gone, serving in the Air Force, or whose mother was always busy, serving on the city council, time was everything. 

Ben had needed consistency and Anakin had always been the one to give it to him. He bought him his first guitar, took him to concerts in the city, and showed him how to read and arrange and write music. And then, once he knew that Ben was ready, Anakin had taught him how to play the harmonica. Claiming that it would help him get a true feel for sound and pitch and rhythm in a way that a guitar couldn’t. Not that one was greater than the other, but according to Anakin, “ _you can’t fit a guitar into your pocket, and music deserves to be everywhere._ ”

Ben could remember sitting on the floor in his grandfather’s living room, listening to artists like Neil Young, or Stevie Wonder, or Bob Dylan. Their songs playing on Anakin’s old, worn-out record player. The two of them would sit there for hours, absorbing every sound - the crackling of the needle, the soft hum of a turning vinyl, the slow bend of the notes, the way the music seemed to come alive in the walls, the floor, the furniture. Then, once the record stopped, Ben would bring his harmonica to his lips and he would play. Impersonating the melody, learning it, mastering it, _feeling_ it, all while Anakin smiled down at him from the couch.

Ben had played for him the night that he died. It was old Irish folksong called _The Parting Glass_. He was at his bedside in a single-occupant, hospital room. His trembling hands cupped around the instrument; his bottom lip quivering as he pushed air against the reeds. He didn’t think that he would have the strength to do it, to play, but Anakin had asked him to. It’s what he had wanted. To hear that wonderful sound, one more time, from the grandson that he had helped to raise. And Ben wasn’t capable of denying him such a small request. Even if every note hurt, or every breath felt like ice. He did what was asked of him. He played.

Then, when he lost Anakin, Ben had felt like the earth had been ripped out from under him. Everything around him seemed empty and dark and void of any real value, and he was angry. He was so fucking angry. Angry that the one person that had believed in him was gone, and that he was alone. Angry that death was something that could happen to the people that he cared about. 

He hadn’t known, then, how to navigate something as all-consuming as grief. He still didn’t now, but he certainly didn’t know then. He had only been seventeen years old when Anakin passed, on the edge of becoming a man, and he was desperately searching for understanding in a town that could only give him thoughts and prayers. And though there wasn’t anything wrong with thoughts or prayers, sometimes they weren’t enough.

But right when Ben was close to giving up, _she_ walked into his life. 

A fourteen year old girl with three buns, a toothy grin, and a pair of wide, hazel eyes. 

A girl that knew a thing or two about losing someone that she loved. 

He had stonewalled her at first, ignoring her endless curiosity, refusing to answer any of her rapid-fire questions, sitting in utter silence while she rambled on about botany and floral symbolism and edible arrangements, or how many honey bees that she thought lived in Coruscant County. Ben didn’t care about the smell of gardenias, or how many colors an amaryllis flower came in, or that you weren’t supposed to water a plant if the sun was still out. Yet, she was persistent. She kept going, despite his unwillingness to bend, because she was the type of girl that decided what she wanted and she didn’t stop until it was hers. 

And what Rey had wanted, for some strange reason, was Ben. 

At first, it was strictly a rather one-sided friendship. She was young, and he felt too old, despite only being seventeen himself. But, again, she was persistent. She would bring him cupcakes to school, usually in the shape of some kind of flower, and he would begrudgingly eat them. She would write him little notes of encouragement and shove them into his locker. _Good luck on your test. I hope you have a good day. Smile, Ben._ And he would pretend like he didn’t keep every single one of them. 

But then, one day, something changed. 

Something that was so infinitesimally subtle that he almost missed it. 

She had been sitting on the tailgate of his black, Chevy K10, eating a drumstick in the parking lot behind Maz’s diner. She was sixteen; he was nineteen. Her long, brown hair was braided down her back; her fingers were coated in streaks of melted ice cream. Then, some old, Elton John song started playing over the radio in the cab. _I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues._ And as soon as the harmonica started playing towards the end of the song, he looked over at her. Noticing the way that the setting sun seemed to warm the freckles on her face, or how she smiled every time the ice cream dripped onto the front of her sweater. And he just knew, he _knew_ , that this girl, this specific one, was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

“ _You look like you want to kiss me_ ,” she had remarked bluntly, smirking as she licked the ice cream off her lips. “ _You can, if you want._ ”

And he did. Oh, he did. 

But there was something that she needed to know first. 

Something that she deserved to know. 

And before he lost the nerve, he said it. 

He had just blurted it out in a rush, not trusting his voice to follow through with what his mind had already decided. 

“ _I love you._ ”

“ _What? Ben!_ ” She had screeched, eyes blown wide, nearly dropping the waffle cone. “ _I wanted to be the one to say it fir..._ ”

Without giving her time to finish her sentence, he bent down and pressed his lips against hers, a smile spreading on the corners of their mouths. He had snaked his hands around the nape of her neck, fingertips pushing into her French braid, and when she opened her mouth, like she had seen in the movies, he could taste the vanilla on her tongue, the flakes of hardened chocolate that had gotten stuck in her teeth, and he wondered why the hell he hadn’t done that sooner. 

\----------

He had thought that the ride to Chandrila would give him enough time to think about what he would say to Han, or what he would do if he saw Rey again, but by the time they were ten miles outside of town, he was bursting with anxiety. His breaths were coming out in gasps, his nerves were alight, and it was hard to resist that primal urge to flee, to have Snap turn the car around and head for Boston. But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Not this time.

He had sobered up after Hux had chucked the bottle of whiskey into a trash can outside of a convenient store in Scranton, Pennsylvania. But being sober wasn’t enough to make him forget all of the things that he had done. 

It didn’t make it any _worse_ , considering how he had already hit two levels below rock bottom, but still, it wasn’t enough. 

A clear mind only seemed to make everything else a little clearer too: all of the pain that he had caused, all of the time that couldn’t get back, all of the regret that he now felt for leaving the way that he had, or the fact that the next time that he would see his mother, she'd be lying in a casket, instead of waiting for him. 

That part hurt worse than any of it. Just knowing that she died believing that he didn’t care. Or that it wouldn’t hurt him. Or that he wouldn’t miss her.

He stared out the window of the Audi, watching the rain slide down the glass in uneven intervals. It had started raining hours ago, but he hadn’t even noticed it until now. The way the lightning streaked across the night sky, or how the water seemed to wash in torrents over the road.

It seemed fitting for it to storm, given how he felt right about now.

Then again, karma had always been a meticulous bitch. Using irony to kick a man when he was already down. And he guessed he deserved it. No, he _knew_ that he deserved it. He deserved everything that he had coming to him: the ridicule, the scorn, their resentment and anger.

He didn’t even know if his father would open the door for him. And even if he did, there was no guarantee that Han would let him walk through it. Their relationship had been rocky on a good day, with the inability to communicate being the driving force of their estrangement, but now that Leia was gone, Ben was so fucking afraid of facing Han. Afraid of finding out that his father hated him just as much as he hated himself. Or that he would never be welcome home, no matter how sorry he was. And he _was_ sorry. He was so fucking sorry. Not just for leaving, but for how unforgiving he had been when he left. 

Han and Leia had always been against him pursuing a career in music, calling it a fool’s errand. They hadn’t supported him the way that Anakin had, or they way that _Rey_ had. Instead, they had told him that he’d be better off going to college, becoming a doctor or a lawyer, doing something that would pay the bills, something _realistic_. He could sing in the church choir if he was that set on singing, but music wasn’t a career. It was a hobby. Something that he did in his spare time. Not something he did for a living. And it was their unrelenting stance towards his future, or who they thought he should be, that had driven Ben away long before he had actually left. 

It didn’t excuse him for leaving, but it had certainly opened the door.

For the rest, Ben had no one to blame but himself. 

Back then, he had been conflicted. He was only twenty-two years old, and the thought of wasting his life, and his potential, had scared the shit out of him. And he was afraid. Afraid that he would inevitably die in a small town, working at some dead-end job that he hated, or having a few mediocre songs that occasionally played on the local radio. And when Peter Snoke, that fucking prick, had offered to put him in an honest-to-God studio, Ben had been too much of a coward to tell him no.

And then, when the moment came to marry Rey, he had panicked. In that one, singular moment, he felt as if he was being given a choice. Plant roots in Chandrila, or get on a flight to Los Angeles. It had seemed so black-and-white at the time, one or the other, as if he couldn’t have both. And as much as he loved her - as much as he _still_ loved her - he feared that one day he would wake up and realize that he had wasted his life on the wrong dream. Not that she could ever be the _wrong_ dream, but the life that she would need from him, the small-town, quiet life that she had told him she wanted, was something that, in the end, he wasn’t ready to give her.

Should he have voiced that before they planned an entire wedding? Absolutely. 

But twenty-two year old Ben and twenty-seven year old Ben were two different people. They had two, very different ways of rationalizing. And the only thing that he could do now was own up to his mistakes. To ask forgiveness from the people that he didn’t deserve to get it from.

“It’s this one, up here.” Hux leaned onto the back of the passenger seat, pointing out the window. 

Ben rested his elbow on the doorframe, cupping his hand over his mouth, as he watched his childhood home come into view. It was exactly how he had remembered it. Not a single shudder out of place. The white siding was dim in the darkness, but it was obvious that Han still pressure washed it once a month, and the door was still a bright shade of red. And when the tires crackled on the pavement, coming to a stop along the curb, Ben noticed that there was a light on in the living room. 

It was 11:57 PM. Which meant that Han was probably in the recliner watching some sort of 70s game show. Or he had fallen asleep, in that very same recliner, with his reading glasses hanging around his neck. It was strange how the memories could so easily resurface, as if Ben had only been gone for five minutes, rather than five years. 

He reached down to the door handle, feeling his chest tighten as he pulled it, opening himself up to a lifetime of vulnerabilities. He still didn’t know what he would say, or if he should have Snap wait a few minutes before driving off, but even though his bones felt like hardened cement, he still forced himself to get out of the car. Feeling the rain sting against his skin like a slap to the face.

And with his hand still on the edge of the door, he heard Hux call out to him. “Ben?” He said, leaning over to the center console. “For what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you.”

He swallowed hard, nodding, before closing the door and walking around to the back of the SUV, grabbing his bag out of the trunk. It was heavy, but nothing compared to the weight that he had already been carrying. This part was easy, standing in the rain, staring up at his father’s house, remember what it looked like on the inside. 

The hard part was walking up to it.

He dragged his hand down the length of his face, wiping the water out of his eyes. His Henley was soaked through the fabric, clinging to his broad chest; his hair was stuck to his forehead. And then, he took the first step, rising up onto the sidewalk that lined the street. The same one that he used to take every morning on his way to school before he could drive. He never took his eyes off the door as he walked up the concrete path. His hand gripping the leather handle of his duffle bag; his breath held inside his lungs as if he were trapped under water.

It wasn’t too late to change his mind. To get back in the car. And he’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t considered it. But then, he heard the lock on the front door click, causing his entire body to stiffen. His steps slowing down until he was standing stock-still. And when it opened, and Han stepped out onto the front porch, every tear that Ben had refused to cry came pouring out of him. 

Even from a distance, he could see the surprise on his father’s face. But along with it, there was something closely akin to relief. It was subtle, because his father had never been one for emotion, but it was there. And it gave Ben enough strength to take another step, then another, until the toes of his boots were nearly touching the front steps. He didn’t walk up them, still afraid that he wasn’t welcome, but when he lifted his eyes, staring up at Han’s wrinkled face, he _knew_. 

It was unspoken, but the forgiveness was right there, waiting for him to take it. He didn’t even have to ask for it, or beg for it, and the fact that it was so freely given made his head drop. The eye contact broken. And as a quiet sob shook from his chest, Han was slowly coming down the steps. Walking into the rain.

His hand reached out, cupping the side of Ben’s face, forcing him to look up at him again, wanting to see the face of his son, _needing_ it. And with a shuddering breath, all of Ben’s defenses suddenly became as vulnerable as paper. Thin and frail and rain-soaked. 

He had spent hours trying to think of something to say, but he could only come up with one word, his voice only strong enough to push out one syllable. 

“Dad,” he shuddered, drawing in a jagged breath.

Han’s lips twitched into a hint of a smile, brushing his thumb along Ben’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin mixed in with the coldness of the rain. 

And even if Ben couldn’t say it, Han knew exactly what he had meant.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: I lost my grandfather not long after TLJ was released. Then, I lost my grandmother, and my other grandfather, right before TROS was released. A lot of this chapter was dedicated to them, especially the part where "Anakin hung the moon." Because in my eyes, my maternal grandfather, quite frankly, hung the moon, the stars, and the sun, and I miss him every single day, even though it's been two years since he passed. And this chapter was loosely based on my own grief, and the upcoming chapters will be heavily influenced on what I had to go through. Not word for word, because this is meant to be fun for you, and for me. But I know quite a bit about losing the people I love. And if you do too, then just know that I'm not alone, and neither are you.
> 
> Xo


	4. Carry On Wayward Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben sees some old faces and learns a hard truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas.

The next morning, Ben woke up with a stiff neck and a hangover from hell. 

He squinted his eyes open, staring up at a wrinkled poster of Led Zeppelin tacked onto his wall and finding a glass of water on the bedside table. And along with it, a note in Han’s scribbled handwriting that simply read, “ _Your clothes are in the washer._ ”

He let out a deep sigh, remembering where he was, then dropped head back down into the pillow, giving himself another minute to adjust, before rolling over and face-planting right into the hardwood floor.

His body hitting the ground with a hard thud.

 _Fucking twin bed_. 

Like the rest of the house, his room hadn’t changed. The walls were still painted a nice shade of shit-brown. The aloe vera plant that Rey had given him, the one that would allegedly help him sleep, was still sitting in the windowsill, as alive and as green as ever. And his dresser was still missing the knob on the second-tier drawer. 

He padded over to it, wearing nothing but his boxers, and opened the top compartment, surprised to find all of his old, band t-shirts still neatly folded inside of it. He riffled through the stacks, grabbing the first black one he spotted, and then he pulled it over his head, squeezing his broad shoulders into it.

It was a little snug, considering how much muscle he had put on in the last five years. But for the most part, aside from the seams threatening to pop, it still fit him.

Then, after chugging the entire glass of water that Han had generously left him, he put on a pair of gray sweatpants, blindly combed his hand through his hair, and walked over to the door. 

He could hear voices coming from downstairs, the television blaring, so with a deep breath, Ben walked out into the hallway and crept down the steps as quietly as he could. 

He didn’t know what time it was, but regardless, it was still too early to face five years worth of scrutiny.

He needed coffee first.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he peered into the living room. Han was kicked back in his recliner with his feet propped up, drinking a bottle of Mountain Dew, and on the couch a few feet away from him, with a beard down to his chest and a headful of graying hair, was Charles “Chewie” Chewbacca.

They were watching the morning news on a 65’ flat-screen television that _had_ to be new. Honestly, it was probably the only thing in the house that _was_ new. Even the old, maroon couch was still there, as well as the wood coffee table in front of it, and the cedar hutch against the far wall. 

And yet, somehow, Han Solo had joined the modern era and bought himself an Honest-to-God TV.

Ben shook his head with a quiet sigh, rubbing his eyes, and then turned away from the living room and tiptoed towards the kitchen—careful not to make a sound.   
  
Coffee. He needed coffee.

But before he could pass through the archway, Chewie’s wife, Maz, was walking through the backdoor.

 _Shit_.

He spun around, attempting to go back the way he came, hoping that she hadn’t noticed him, but Maz had the sharpest pair of eyes in Chandrila. The damn things could’ve been closed and she still would have seen him.

“BEN SOLO!” She called out in an echo.

How such a small woman could have such a loud voice had always been a mystery to him. But when he _eased_ back around, a forced smile on his face, she was already making a B-line for him. 

“Maz,” he held out his arms, shrugging. “It’s good to see you.”

Her little feet were slamming on the floor, echoing in a _thud, thud, thud,_ crossing the kitchen, and when she finally reached him, one of those feet lifted up and kicked him hard in the knee. 

Ben bent forward, letting out a low groan, and peered over at her at eye-level. 

“You idiot. You big, beautiful idiot!” She frowned before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and squeezing. “I’ve missed you.” She whispered.

After the shock wore off, Ben brought an arm around and hugged her back. He had known her all of his life; yet, this was the first time he had ever hugged her. And it felt good. It felt _too_ good. Undeservingly good.

He pulled away from her, needing the space to breathe, while she immediately started examining him. Her beady eyes squinting behind a pair of thick glasses; her line of sight trained on the back of his hands and forearms, then his biceps.

“What are these?” She gripped his left wrist, turning his arm around for a better look. 

“Tattoos.”

“What? You couldn’t just pick one? You had to get them all?”

A smirk tried to spread on his face, though not quite forming, as he watched her release her death grip and turn around, returning to the kitchen.

“You want some breakfast?” She called to him. “I made a hashbrown casserole. Then, there’s eggs, bacon, sausage. Amilyn brought donuts.” Then, she swung around, her face set in it’s usual frown. “Or are you still eating cereal?”

“I still eat cereal,” he told her as he slowly walked further into the kitchen.

She snorted before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jug of milk. “Some things never change.”

Ben had come downstairs thinking that he’d be able to get a cup of coffee and sneak out the backdoor, but now he was sitting at the table while Maz plopped a white, porcelain bowl in front of him, followed by a spoon.

She sauntered over to the pantry, swinging the doors open, and came back with a box of Cap’n Crunch and the milk, and by the time he took the first bite, she was already back at the stove, pulling another casserole out of the oven. 

The counters were lined with a whole row of them. Some covered in aluminum foil; others with their own plastic lids. And there were two-liter drinks of every brand, a few generic, in a cluster near the sink. Ben glanced around at all of it as he chewed, noticing the stack of paper plates, packages of assorted utensils, sleeves of red solo cups, and wondered why Maz thought that they needed more when they already had enough.

Then again, everyone grieved differently. Some people cried. Some people cooked. 

Maz clearly cooked.

“Did you do all this?” Ben asked, waving his spoon towards the counter. 

“Not all of it,” she commented impassively as she turned around to lean against the sink. “A few people stopped by this morning, dropping things off. But I’m sure there will be more later. This whole town loved Leia. This is their way of showing it.”

Ben’s jaw twisted into a frown, the cereal tasting too bitter all of a sudden. He placed the spoon in the bowl with a clank, and then sat there with his head hung, unable to look at her.

It was _that_ quick, with the mere mentioning of her name, that Ben fell back into misery. It had subsided for a bit, drawn up like a closed curtain, but now it was impossible to think about anything else. How she should be the one forcing him to eat. Or the one kicking him in the knee. Or hugging him and telling him that she missed him. 

But it wasn’t. 

She was gone.

And Ben needed a fucking drink.

He stood up from the table right as Han and Chewie came into the kitchen, and a deafening silence immediately washed over the room. Ben turned to them, his shoulders slack, and glanced up at Chewie, noticing how much deeper his crows feet had gotten, or how much bigger he seemed. His uncle was the only person in Chandrila that had ever made Ben feel small, with his towering body built like an army tank and his handspan wide enough to choke a man to death. 

There was a part of Ben, a small part that was solely driven by self-loathing, that wished that he would. Choke him, that is. Maybe even beat the shit out of him. God knows he would deserve it. 

But instead, Chewie wrapped his arms around him, boxing his shoulders in, and hauled him into his chest. The back of his hand spread across Ben’s head; the other gripping the fabric of his too-tight shirt. 

“It’s good to see you, Benny.” His deep voice purred. “It’s damn good to see you.”

Ben nodded as he drew away from him, tears swelling in his eyes, and all that he managed to say back to him was a quiet, “You too.”

It wasn’t even close to being enough, but in that split second, it was all that he had.

“I, uh...” Ben stepped back, collecting himself and remembering why he had stood up from the table to begin with. “Dad, I was wondering if—if maybe I could borrow the Falcon?”

“You gonna drive it to the airport?” Han raised his brow. And when Ben’s face sank, the old man let out a deep laugh. “Too soon?”

“I just wanted to go to Lando’s.” He nervously massaged his jaw. “Pick up a few things.”

Han scoffed, shaking his head as he left the room.

Ben had taken that as a ‘no,’ until his father came back jingling the keys.

“You wreck it, you’re buying me a new one. Got it?” He said pointedly, tossing them to Ben.

“Got it,” Ben choked out as he caught them.

“And you’re gonna put gas in it.” He added. “A full tank.”

Ben nodded in a daze, “A full tank.”

Han moved out of the doorway, letting him through. But before Ben could get to the front door, he heard his father calling out to him.

“You might want to put some shoes on.”

Ben came to a slowed stop, pressing his lips together in a flat line, and then turned back around with a heavy sigh.

\----------

Lando’s Grocery was a staple in Chandrila. Owned, but apparently no longer operated, by Lando Calrissian. He had retired last summer, passing the business down to his daughter, Jannah.

Ben pulled into a spot out front, fighting the gear shift on Han’s old, 1970 Ford Falcon 429 until it finally locked into park, and then he climbed out, breathing in the humid air. 

It felt strange to get out of a vehicle without having a camera flash in his face, or a microphone shoved up to his mouth, or just being able to drive at all. But regardless of where he was, Ben still glanced around the parking lot, half-expecting to find a paparazzo hiding behind a pallet of mulch.

But there wasn’t.

No one was even _looking_ at him. 

Which, to be honest, felt even _stranger_.

The doors to the store slid open and he plodded inside, bypassing the carts and the registers, and went straight to the freezer section, looking for a sign that said ‘liquor.’ He studied the rows, listening to _The Chain_ by Fleetwood Mac blare over the loud speakers, and then reached into his pocket, checking to make sure that he had enough money to pay for something decent. 

Hux, being the more financially responsible of the two, had all of Ben’s credit cards. And since Hux had decided to stay at his grandparents house, Ben was left with seventy-two dollars and some change. It was enough for a bottle of Jack, and considering the nostalgia of being home, he thought, _What the hell? Why not?_ It wasn’t the expensive shit that he was used to, but back in the day, Jack had been the drink-of-choice. And he was pretty sure he’d seen a two-liter of Coke sitting on the kitchen counter.

He grabbed the bottle from the freezer and closed the door before making his way back down the aisle.

There were a few people in the store, pushing carts full of groceries, but no one that he immediately recognized. Yet, he looked at each of them anyway, silently hoping that one of them might be _her._

Not that he wanted to see her at this exact moment. At least not while he was wearing sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a tear in the sleeve. But he still wanted to see her. Even if it was from a distance. Just to know that she was okay.

When he walked towards the register, he felt his heart sink. Nearly every magazine, aside from Home & Gardening, had his face on the cover.

WHERE IS KYLO REN?

KYLO REN CANCELS BOSTON SHOW

 _Fucking Snoke._

Ben had refused to tell him where they were going, or when they'd be back, and it was obvious that his manager was pulling out all the stops to find him.

With a low groan, Ben immediately turned the magazines over, one at a time, even squatting down to get the ones at the bottom. Then, once they were all facing backwards, he placed the bottle of Jack on the conveyer belt and waited for a stone-faced, blonde-haired cashier to ring him up.

“We have more in the back,” she said flatly. 

“Excuse me?” Ben blinked.

“More magazines with your face on them. Just got a shipment in this morning. Do you want those too?”

“I’m good,” he swallowed, running his hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

She stared up at him, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the bottle. “You don’t remember me, do you?” 

Ben pulled out two, twenty dollar bills from the crumbled wad in his hand, attempting to straighten them out as he looked over at her. “No,” he shook his head quietly. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Kaydel. Kaydel Connix. We went to high school together.”

His lips parted slightly, remembering. “Shit, that’s right. Kay-D. You look... You look different.”

She scoffed, “I need to see your ID.”

He nervously reached into his pocket, fishing out his license, and then handed it to her.

He really needed a wallet.

“California,” she eyed it indifferently before holding it back out to him between her middle and index fingers. “Fancy.”

“Kay, you wouldn’t happen to know where Rey lives, do you?” He asked her as he put the license back into his pocket. 

“That’ll be $38.52.” She answered, sacking up the bottle into a brown, paper bag.

“Or maybe where she works?” He persisted desperately.

Kaydel slammed her hand onto the register, causing the drawer to jut out. Then, she gathered up his change and held it out to him in a closed fist. “Thank you for coming to Lando’s.”

He let out a deep sigh and picked up the bag, “Keep it.”

“How generous.” She grumbled as he walked away. “A dollar forty-eight.”

\----------

As Ben walked towards the parking lot in search of the Falcon, he noticed a short, curly-headed man getting out of a white, Nissan Altima. And unlike what had happened with Kaydel, Ben immediately knew who he was.

“Poe?” He called out as he neared him. 

Poe stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes finding Ben, and then he huffed, shoving his keys into his pocket. “I heard you were back. Didn’t believe it at first. But—here you are!”

“I’m just—I’m just here for the funeral.”

“Good,” he nodded, not caring enough to give him any more than that.

But then, as Poe passed by him, Ben turned around. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yeah?” He slowed to a stop, his fists clenched as he spun to face him. 

“Is she—Is she alright?” 

“You mean Rey?” Poe started walking back to him, wearing a hard gaze. “Oh, she’s _fine._ Just fine. Happy, even.”

“That’s good.” He swallowed the rock in his throat. “That’s real good. I’m— I’m glad.”

“Yeah, apparently being left at the altar was the best thing for her.” Poe twisted the knife even further, praying that it fucking hurt. “She has a family now. A life.”

Ben’s eyes began to sting, his chest tightening. 

_She has a family._

_She got married._

_She might even have kids by now._

The thought of it made him want to vomit, and when his eyes drifted to the ground, he heard Poe let out an airy scoff.

“I’m sorry about your mother, Ben.” He told him genuinely, but then his sincerity quickly faded, and he added one last blow, “And congratulations on the fucking Grammy.”

Ben’s head shot up, watching Poe walk towards the front of the store. He stood there for a minute, his vision blurring, and when he finally found his footing, he continued on towards the Falcon. Desperately wanting to get the next few days over with. _Needing_ to get it over with. 

He had lost her. 

Not that he had ever believed he could get her back, but just knowing that she had a family now, like she had always wanted, made it seem so final, so _real._ She had moved on and found someone else to love, someone much better than he was, someone that wouldn’t leave her. 

And he was going to have to watch her be happy with someone that wasn’t him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't matter how famous you are, if your dad let's you take the car, you put gas back in it.
> 
> Next up: Ben sees Rey again... Plus one.


	5. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey see each other again, Han is a good dad, and a certain little someone makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ben has a panic attack in this one.
> 
> If that bothers you, then skip over the section where he's leaving the church.
> 
> The song is "The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows," by Brand New.

Ben wanted to reach down and touch her hands, to hold them one more time, but the thought of feeling her cold skin, void of any warmth, along with the fear of her somehow, even in death, wanting to pull away from him, made him hesitate.

“I should have been there,” he whispered. “I should have came home sooner.”

Han had given him a moment alone with her, clearing out a few people that had arrived early and allowing Ben to say whatever it was that he needed to say before they closed the casket and started the service. 

But Ben didn’t know what to say to her. 

He had never known what to say to her, or to his father, or to Rey, or to anyone. And maybe that was his problem. He held things back. He held them in. He didn’t know how to let go. He was an enigma of opposites. Running when he should have stayed. Speaking when he should have listened. Pushing people away when he should have pulled them in.

People that he loved. People that he needed. People that he missed. 

“I’ve made so many mistakes, Mom.” He spoke softly, wiping the tears out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Leaving you was one of them. Not being there when you needed me was another. I've been so selfish, and I know that I won't ever get your forgiveness, or even deserve it. But if your listening, and I really hope that you are, then I want you to know that I'm sorry.”

His jaw twisted around as he struggled to control his emotions. 

This didn’t feel right, talking to her like this. Confessing his failures to a coffin. 

“I’m not the son that you should have had." He persisted, his deep voice fragile and strained. "You deserved so much better than me. But I really wish...” He paused, hanging his head. “I really wish that I could have been him. The son that you wanted. The son that you needed. But even though I wasn't, I hope you know that it was never your fault. None of this has been your fault. It was mine. It's always been _mine_.”

He lifted his hand, his fingers trembling, and started to bring it down towards hers, but then he stopped himself, closing it into a fist and letting it rest on the edge of her casket.

“I left you when I needed you the most,” He continued, blinking through the tears. “But I swear, it had nothing to do with you. You just wanted to love me and I wouldn’t let you. But it wasn’t... God, Mom, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you. Because I did. So much. And I’d give anything to be able to tell you that. But I can’t and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t say it enough.”

His fingers opened, his arm slowly reaching, and when he rested it on the back of her hand, he let out a shuddering sigh, feeling the softness of her skin. 

He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, a touch so gentle and so delicate that it was barely there, and then he bent down, his body hovering over hers, and kissed her forehead. His lips lingering while tears trickled down his nose.

“But I do.” He whispered quietly. “I love you.”

\----------

Han was standing on the front steps of the First Baptist Church, his hands shoved into the pocket of his suit pants, his gaze wandering over the front lawn, the road, the neighboring houses. There were cars slowly filling into the parking lot to his right, and a black hearse was backed up to the edge of the sidewalk, but aside from the ache in his chest and the hole that Leia had left, Han was content. 

This was what she would have wanted. 

The sun beaming high in the sky. Thick, white clouds gliding across it like cotton. The wind blowing just enough to rustle the leaves. He looked up, giving the universe a wink, hoping that she might see it, and before he had time to look back down, he heard the sweetest voice in Coruscant County.

“POPPY!”

Her tiny, little shoes pattered on the pavement, the soft _click, click, click_ becoming music to his ears as she ran down the sidewalk as fast as she could, her arms already reaching for him. Han smiled from the steps, savoring the sight of her, wanting to store it, save it, remember it, because she was already growing like a weed, and it wouldn’t be long before Poppy wasn’t _cool_ anymore. 

But for now, he was her person, and it was obvious, from the gleam in his eyes, that she was his.

“There’s my best girl.” Han scooped her up into his arms, faking back pain with a wince. “Whoa, you’re getting heavy. Or maybe Poppy’s just getting old.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning back to look at him. “You’re not old, Poppy.” 

Han may be biased, but the kid couldn’t have been any cuter if she tried - with her shiny, black hair that seemed to grow faster than she did, or the tiny, little beauty spot that had popped up to the right of her nose. She was perfect in every way. But it was her eyes that had always got him. Her big, brown puppy dog eyes. The way they blew wide-open when she was excited, or how they swelled with tears when she was sad. 

“Oh yeah? Then, what are these?” Han asked her, pointing to his face.

“Wrinkles,” she giggled, touching them.

“That’s right. Poppy has wrinkles. And that means he's old.” 

Rey had been trying to keep up with her - out of breath with her hair falling in her face - but once she saw that it was only Han, she slowed down, relaxing. She looked like she had barely gotten out of the car before she had to start chasing after her daughter. She wasn’t even sure if she locked the doors, or if she had taken the keys out of the ignition, but after over four years of being a mother, she liked to think she had gotten pretty good at it. 

Her arms were full as she walked towards the front of the church, with a gray backpack in one hand, a leak-proof water bottle full of grape juice in the other, and a book shoved up under her arm. Her best, Sunday dress had a water stain on the front of it, but the fabric was black, so thankfully no one would notice, and she barely had on any makeup. 

But considering how her child had spilled an entire bowl of cereal in the kitchen, while she was trying to get ready in the bathroom, Rey had done her best.

And she looked good. 

Good enough to confront _him_ again, at least.

Finn, Poe, and Rose weren’t far behind her, each of them taking off of work just to be there. Not only for Leia, but for Rey. Knowing that she would undoubtedly need them to get through this.

Rey craned her neck around Han, peering into the church. “Is he in there?”

“Yeah,” Han sighed knowingly. “He’s in there.”

She nodded, and then looked up at her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she said softly. “You’re going to go with Uncle Finn and Uncle Poe, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.” She smiled before immediately reaching for Finn.

He grinned as he took her from Han, planting a series of kisses on her cheek all while resisting the urge to remind his husband that _he_ was the favorite. Finn took this uncle business very seriously, and seeing as Poe had always managed to one-up him in everything else - from dancing, to answering trivia questions, to writing wedding vows - he was proud to have this small victory.

“Alright,” Rey let out a heavy breath, turning to Poe. She started handing him everything that she was carrying, the bag, the water bottle, a book called _The Story of Ferdinand_ by Munro Leaf. “If she starts getting fussy, then just have her read this. I’ve also packed a few snacks in case she says she’s hungry. And if she needs to go to the bathroom, then just make sure that she washes her han...”

“Rey,” Poe cut her off, leaning forward, and then nudged his head towards the church. “Go.”

She inhaled through her nose, her shoulders rising and then falling. She had waited for this moment for far too long, letting it play over and over in her head until she had gotten it down to a science. But now that the moment was here, now that _he_ was here, she was afraid that she wouldn’t be strong enough, or brave enough, or confident enough to see him again. To actually _see_ him again. 

Ben Solo had always been her greatest weakness. 

And, deep down, she knew that he always would be.

Because underneath all of the hurt and anger and bitterness was a tiny, paper-thin layer of relief, knowing that he had come back home. And beneath _that_ , curled up into a ball no larger than a wad of lint, was this inkling of hope that he might be willing to stay this time. 

She hated herself for that last part, hated herself for even considering it, but it was true. She had missed him. Or maybe she had missed what she had with him: the love, laughter, the passion, feeling whole. He had completed her, and she had thought that she had completed him. That they were two sides of the same coin, as cohesive as running water. 

And maybe she had been wrong. 

But it hadn’t _felt_ wrong. 

It still didn’t.

“Rose,” Rey swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers prickling with anxious energy.

The request was unspoken, but Rose knew exactly what it was.

“I’m right behind you.” 

\----------

As Ben stood at the altar, his eyes staring down at his mother's wedding ring, he tried to will himself to not think about the past. About how, five years ago, he should have been standing here, waiting for his own ring. 

He glanced down at his left hand, a tattoo of a faded raven spread across the back of it, his fingers stretched out, and tried to imagine it. The silver band with their names engraved on the inside. The smile on her face as she pushed it over the joint.

His eyes quickly lifted, hearing footsteps walking down the aisle behind him, the church echoing in a rhythm that was all too familiar, and for a second, Ben didn’t turn around. He couldn’t turn around. But then he _had_ to turn around. 

He had to know if it was her.

And it was.

God, it was her.

He pivoted just enough for his eyes to find her, the light pouring in from the double-doors casting a bright glow around her silhouette. She looked like a fucking angel, her slender form slightly curvier, her hair cut short, stopping just about her shoulders. She had one side tucked behind her ear, with the rest curling away from her face like an ocean wave. And if he had dropped dead right then and there, then he would have died happy. 

Just being able to see at her again. 

Hell, just being able to be in the same _room_ as her again. 

He started to walk towards her, his body being pulled like a magnet, but he didn’t take more than a few steps before he saw the way that she was looking at him. Her eyes narrowed into slits; her full lips pressed together in a tight line. She looked like she wanted to kill him. Or castrate him. Maybe castrate him, _then_ kill him. And although his treacherous dick was already twitching with excitement, as if it had sensed that she was near, Ben wasn’t real keen on being emasculated in a church. Or at all.

“Rey,” he called out her name in a strained whisper. 

The slight quiver in her bottom lip was the only thing that gave her away, but it was so subtle that Ben could have been mistaken. And as she neared him, he was so lost in her orbit that he didn’t notice that her right hand had balled into a fist, or that her arm had pulled back.

Her knuckles slammed into his nose with enough force to make his vision white out. His eyes squeezing shut; his head snapping back. He stumbled into the corner of a pew, letting out a low grunt, and after a split second of numbness, a sharp pain started to shoot up the bridge of his nose, through his eyes, and around to his temples. A pain so intense that it left him disoriented. 

But once that pain turned back into a dull ache, Ben felt the blood.

It was coming out of _both_ nostrils, leaving a warm, red trail over the swell of his lips and down to his chin. And at first, he thought that it wasn’t much, or that it might just be clear fluid, or snot. But as he reached up and swiped his hand across his mouth, he knew that it was bad. 

He knew by the stunned look on her face that it was bad. 

She rushed around him, ringing out her hand, and once she reached the casket, paying her respects to his mother, Ben heard her gently whisper, “ _Sorry, Leia_.”

He stared at the back of her head, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, and then reached into the front pocket of his jacket, pulling out a black, pocket square. He brought it up to his mouth, cleaning the blood off of his lips, as Rose sauntered up to him, her face failing to hide her smirk.

“Hello, Ben.” She greeted him, tilting her head. “Or is it Kylo Ren now?”

He immediately coiled at the name, “Ben’s fine.”

“Yeah, well... you might want to have that checked out, _Ren_. Looks broken.” 

Rose shoved by him and joined Rey at the casket, the two of them leaning against one another, whispering something that he couldn’t hear. Then, after a few minutes, Rey walked over to the front pew and sat down, with Rose taking a seat to her right. He walked over and sunk down in the space closest to the aisle, leaving more than enough room between himself and Rey. 

Not because he didn’t want to sit beside her, but because he assumed, by his broken nose, that she didn’t want him to.

He tilted his head back, his legs spread wide, holding the cloth against his nostrils to apply pressure, and when he brought his gaze back down to the floor, checking for blood, he could feel Rey stealing glances at him. 

He wanted to look back, but he didn’t. Too afraid that if he pressed his luck, then she would go sit somewhere else. And right now, he was so close to her that he could almost smell the perfume on her neck, a light spritz of jasmine and vanilla, faint but sweet. 

The keyword being _almost_ , considering how he could hardly breathe through the swelling.

But still, he could feel the air around him flickering with pieces of her and he selfishly wanted to be a part of it. Even if it was just for the next hour. Just until the funeral was over and then they went their separate ways. He wanted to keep her close to him. 

So, he kept his head down, bunching up the bloody cloth in his fist, and didn’t look back. 

\----------

When the service ended and the pallbearers began to carry Leia out, Ben followed along behind them, walking by himself. He could hear Rey over his shoulder, chatting quietly with Rose, and even though he wanted to turn around, to ask her if they could talk, or if she would let him explain himself, he knew that now was not the time or the place to beg for her forgiveness. 

_Especially not the place._

So, he kept walking.

His footsteps growing heavier and heavier the further he went. 

He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. Not that he even had her to begin with. But the uncertainty of whatever would happen next made him want to drop to his knees right in front of her. Fearing that if he didn’t do something now, then he may never get the chance. 

But then, as they neared the doors, Poe was standing there holding a little girl in his arms. Ben came to a slowed stop at the sight of her. His face frozen in a trance; his lips parting just enough to push the air out. She was looking up at him, smiling so wide that a deep pair of dimples formed on her cheeks, and he would have sworn that he had seen her before - in a picture, or a memory, or a _mirror_. But before Ben knew what was happening, the little girl was calling out for her mother. Arms stretched out. Eyes sparkling.

Ben glanced over his shoulder, his gaze following Rey as she walked right by him, and then when she reached Poe, she quickly took the little girl into her arms.

“Mommy, look what me and Uncle Finn made!”

_Mommy?_

She held up a sheet of paper, showing it to Rey, with a drawing of two stick figures standing on what appeared to be a hill.

“Uncle Finn said that he would put it on his _fridga-rator_!”

“That’s beautiful, sweetie.” Rey grinned, but then her eyes lifted up to Ben and the joy was gone. She looked back down at her daughter, straightening the hem of her dress, and then quickly carried her out of the church. 

Ben started to go after her, but Finn was quick to cut him off. Shooting him a icy glare, yet somehow breathing fire. "Don't even think about it, Solo.” 

He didn’t give Ben time to say anything before he was turning around and sprinting to catch up with Rey. Poe and Rose right behind him. And by the time they disappeared down the sidewalk, Ben still hadn’t moved. His pulse beating in his ears; his nerves alight. He drew his brows in, staring off into space, trying to process Rey being a mother, or why Han had failed to mention it.

“Son?" Speak of the devil. "Are you ready to go?"

Ben slowly squinted at Han, watching his father stand in the doorway with a worried look growing on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Han stepped forward, sighing sadly. “Ben, they're waiting. We have to go the cemetery. We can talk about this later."

"No, I want to talk about it now." Ben shifted his feet, backing away from him. "How old is she?"

"Ben, don't."

"HOW OLD?" His voice cracked into a hiccup, his eyes swelling with tears, his heart breaking. "God, Dad, please, just tell me how old she is."

He brought a hand up to his mouth, hiding the quiver of his lips. He was afraid of the answer, but he needed to hear it. Needing the time to add up. Needing the dates to align. But if they did, if she was his, then that meant that Ben hadn't just walked out on Rey, or his parents, or his life in Chandrila. 

He had walked out on his own child. 

“Dad, please...” The tears streaked down his face.

Han swallowed hard, drawing in a breath. "She's four, Ben. She’ll be five in May.”

May. She was born in May. He left in October. October to May. October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May. Eight months. 

Ben let out a series of strangled breaths, his chest tight enough to tear open, his stomach twisting into a thousand tiny, prickling knots. He fell forward, bending over with hands on his knees and his hair hanging around his face, trying to catch his breath, gasping for air, yet choking on it. Every nerve in his body felt like it had been set on fire, burning his skin; his pores breaking out in a cold sweat. 

It was that quick. 

That instantaneous. 

A snap of a finger, a strike of a match. 

And Ben was having a full-blown panic attack. 

“Ben? Ben, breathe! Stand up, son.” Han placed a hand on his shoulder, the other on his back. “Stand up.”

Tears beaded in the corners of Ben’s eyes, dripping down onto the floor, his throat clenching so tightly that nothing could pass through it. His heart was knocking on the walls of his chest, thrashing harder and harder and harder until his vision blacked out and his head started spinning.

He had to get out of there. 

And as he staggered forward, pulling out of his father’s grip, he started walking and he didn’t stop. He could hear Han calling out to him as he stormed out of the church, begging him to wait, pleading for him to just _listen for a second_ , but Ben kept going. The sun slapping him in the face with a blinding light; the sidewalk stretching in a rippled blur.

Hux was leaning against the rental that Snap had left behind, smoking a cigarette, with his spine pressed into the front grill and his right arm resting on the hood. Getting his nicotine fix while he waited for the funeral procession to begin. 

But when he spotted Ben, he immediately stood upright. The filter hanging in his lips; his brows pinched.

"Hey,” He said worriedly. “You alright?”

"Just..." He choked as he walked by him towards the passenger side door. "Just drive.”

Hux frowned as he reached up and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, flicking it onto the pavement. “What happened?” 

\---------

New Hope Cemetery was settled on a twelve acre plot of land just outside of city limits. The ground rolling in hills and valleys; the tombstones varying in age, color, and shape. There were hundreds of them, standing in even rows, facing the east, and there was an old, red maple tree planted in the middle of them. It’s long limbs twisting away from a curved trunk; it’s bark rough and rutted and nearly black.

Rey was staring up at it, holding onto her daughter’s hand, and watching as the wind blew through the scarlet leaves, causing a few of them to break off and float down to the grass. She made a mental note to grab one later, so that she could press it into a book when she got home. Something to remember the day by. 

“Are you okay, mommy?” A little voice called up to her.

She lowered her gaze, staring into a pair of bright, brown eyes. “I’m fine, baby. Mommy’s fine.”

It was a white lie - small and harmless and necessary. 

But it was still a lie.

Rey wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine at all. Ben knew about their daughter. Han had quietly confirmed it. Saying that he had put two-and-two together back at the church. Which normally would have frightened her. Because Ben was powerful. He had money, and lawyers, and influence. He could get custody in a heartbeat if he really wanted to. But after watching Ben get into an SUV and drive off, leaving before the procession had even started, she was mostly just disappointed. 

Then again, Ben running away from the people that loved him wasn't anything new.

“Is Poppy okay?” 

“Yeah, baby. Poppy’s okay too.” 

Rey peered over at Han, watching him hang his head. The exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyes. He was standing next to Leia’s brother, Luke, who had showed up late. Claiming that traffic had taken him longer to get out of the city. 

He was a big-time, entertainment lawyer in Manhattan, which meant that he was always busy. He had made time to come see Leia while she was sick, but his visits were rare and usually didn’t last very long. It was a surprise that he was even there today, considering he was in the middle of a high-profile case that was set to go to trial.

“Is Uncle Chewie okay?” 

Rey peered back down at her daughter, a small smile on her lips, “We’re all okay, sweetheart. Everyone’s okay.”

“Then why does everyone look so sad?” She frowned.

“We’re just going to miss Nana, baby. That’s all.”

“I’m gonna miss her too.” She nodded, letting out a tiny sigh. “Do you think that there are soaps in Heaven? Or will Nana not get to watch them anymore?”

Rey squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb across her fingers, and tried not to laugh. Leia was an avid fan of daytime soap operas. Never missing an episode of _General Hospital_. And her daughter was too clever to not notice.

“I’m sure there are.” Rey nodded. “I think Nana can probably watch anything she wants.”

“Even me?” Her long lashes fluttered as she blinked.

Rey felt her heart twinge, “Especially you.”

\----------

By the time the sun had set and the day was over, Han was utterly spent. 

He pulled the Falcon into the driveway, turning off the ignition, and then sat back in his seat, letting out a long and exhausted breath. Closing his eyes.

The last few days had taken nearly everything from him: his wife, his son (again), his strength, his mind. He tried to see the silver lining, as he always did, but the end of the tunnel, where the light should be, only seemed to get further away from him the harder he fought to get to it. 

Luke had tried to warn him that the funeral would be the easy part - when he was surrounded by love and support, focused on all of the planning: the flowers, the music, the clothes that she would wear, who he would get to preach or sing. 

That part was easy. 

It was the silence afterwards that was hard. 

Which, as Han was learning, had quite a bit of truth in it. He hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and the silence was already maddening. 

But in the corner of his eyes, he noticed a light shining through the living room window. And Han, being the typical dad that he was, never left the house without turning them all off. He never even left a _room_ without turning them off.

So, he tugged on the door handle, climbing out of the Falcon, and walked towards the front porch. His brows furrowed; his hand fumbling to find the right key. He peered down at the flower pot next to the door, where he kept the spare, and noticed that it had been moved from it’s usual spot. And when he reached for the doorknob, twisting it first, he realized that it was already unlocked.

“ _Ben,”_ he thought to himself, a sense of relief washing over him.

The house was quiet as he stepped into the foyer, with the gentle hum of the air vents stirring through the walls, and as he closed the door behind him, he heard a glass clink in the kitchen. He shrugged out of his jacket and held it in his hand as he walked through the archway, wondering what kind of state he was about to find him in. If he should be worried, or just prepared, or both. 

“I didn’t have a key,” Ben’s deep voice whispered as Han stood under the doorframe. 

He was sitting at the kitchen table, his arms resting on the top, his hands cupped around a highball glass full of whiskey. His suit was gone, replaced by a plain, white t-shirt; his hair was wet and tousled and falling in his face. There was a bruise beneath his right eye, dark-purple and shaped like a boomerang, and the bridge of his nose was slightly swollen.

“I’ll have another one made tomorrow,” Han told him gently, laying his jacket over the back of a chair. 

Ben’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, working his jaw.

Han walked over to the cabinet, grabbing himself a coffee cup from the shelf. “Have you eaten?”

He heard his son let out a pained laugh, and when he turned back around, there were tears in Ben’s eyes, lining his dark lashes, threatening to spill over. 

“Is it really that easy for you?” He asked his father dismally, staring a hole through the table. “To just forgive me as if I haven’t done anything wrong?”

“You’re my son, Ben. I’ll always forgive you. No matter what you’ve done.”

“How about abandoning my child?” He asked him in a broken whisper, biting down on his bottom lip, then letting it go with a _tisk_. His gaze lifting to Han. “Can you forgive me for that, Dad? Can you forgive me for not being here? Because I can’t.” He shook his head slowly.

“You could walk out that door, right now, and never look back. And I would still forgive you for it. You want to know why? Because I love you. Because you’re my child and I love you.” He said with a softness in his voice. “Soon, you’ll understand what that feels like.”

Ben hung his head, rubbing his thumb along the side of the glass, drawing small circles with his fingernail. “Rey isn’t gonna let me anywhere near her.”

“Have you talked to her? To Rey?”

Ben licked his lips, then pointed to his face. “Does this count?”

Han let out a quiet laugh as he walked over to the coffee pot, sliding his fingers through the handle and pouring himself a cup. “I think you and I can both agree that you had that one coming. But, no, it doesn’t count.” 

“I wanted to talk to her,” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “But I didn’t think apologizing for leaving her on our wedding day, in the church that we were supposed to get married in, was the right thing to do.”

“Probably not,” Han shrugged, tapping his spoon on the rim of his mug. “But you also can’t assume that you know her, or what she would want, if you haven’t seen her in five years.” He said as he turned and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite of Ben. “That’s the thing about women, son. We never know what they want. Most of the time, they don’t even know.”

“Yeah, well, I think I have a pretty good idea of what she _doesn’t_ want,” Ben told him as he picked up his glass, bringing the rim to his lips. 

“Why? Because she broke your nose?” Han raised his brow, taking a sip of his coffee, and then winced when it burned his tongue. “You have a lot to learn.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben eyed him.

Han sat his cup down on the table. “It means that the only person who knows what Rey wants... is Rey. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by assuming that you know her better than she does.” 

Ben downed the rest of his drink and began pouring himself another one, needing to numb the ache in his chest. “You didn’t see the look on her face.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” Han agreed. “But there’s a lot that you didn’t see either. Like how she thought that you had left again.”

Ben glanced up at his father, his heart sinking. “I - I wasn’t gonna leave, Dad. I know it might - it might have seemed like it. And I haven’t given any of you a reason to believe me. But I wasn’t - I wasn’t gonna leave.”

Han’s face softened, watching his mountain of a son try to somehow make himself seem smaller. “I believe you. I do. I believe you.”

“I - I wouldn’t do that to my kid.” He shook his head, a tear falling down his face. “I want to get to know her, Dad. I want to - I want to hold her.”

“Ben, I _know._ ” Han whispered, trying to reassure him. 

“But then, Rey, she...” Ben choked, fighting to center himself. “When she took her from Poe, it was like she... it was like she was trying to get her away from me. And I get it.” His voice broke. “I fucking get it. She didn’t want me to know. She didn’t want me to know about her.”

“Son, you _don’t_ get it. You don’t get it at all.” Han told him softly. “Rey has never tried to hide her from you, or keep her from you. But Ani is only four years old, Ben. She’s only four. And Rey didn’t know how you would react to her.”

Ben’s face fell, his heart beating so hard that he could barely draw in a breath. “What did you - what did you say?”

“I said that Rey didn’t know how you would react to her. But it’s not because she doesn’t want you to...”

“No,” Ben shook his head quickly, his vision blurring. “You said her _name_.”

Han inhaled sharply, realizing that Ben hadn't known what it was.

He didn’t know what his daughter's name was.

“Did she... Did Rey... Did she name her after...” Ben propped his elbow onto the table, pressing his lips into his fist, hiding his pained frown. 

“Yes, Ben.” Han nodded gently, smiling. “She did.”

Ben pressed his palms into his eyes, a quiet whimper tearing through his throat.

“She named her Anakin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Baby Anakin with my whole chest. My whole, entire chest.


	6. Shrike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben goes to the hospital. Rey has an unexpected customer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to update, but I've been really nervous about this posting this chapter. I'm not used to letting people read what I write, but so far you've all been so kind to me, and you don't know how much I've appreciated it!
> 
> With that being said... *deep breath*... here it is.
> 
> The song is 'Shrike' by Hozier, which is my Ben Solo song. I listened to this on repeat after TROS. And when I say repeat, I mean REPEAT. And if this song has been used in other Reylo fics, or videos, then PLEASE direct me straight to them.

Ben’s nose was broken.

He knew the second that Rey had punched him that it was broken, but when he woke up the next morning with a high fever, a throbbing headache, and a black eye, he couldn’t just suffer through the pain anymore. 

He had to do something about it. 

His father, with a little help from Hux, had convinced him that it might be a good idea to go to the hospital and see if it needed to be reset. Or if his fever was a symptom of an underlying infection. 

He wasn’t going to go, at first. Deciding to self-medicate with a couple of Ibuprofen and a bag of frozen peas. But then Hux made a cheeky, off-hand comment about how his fever was “ _probably just chlamydia.”_ So, to protect his honor, or what was left of it, Ben drove himself down to Chandrila’s humble, little hospital, Mothma General, and checked himself in. 

Hux went with him. Partly for moral support. Mostly because he had heard, from a semi-reliable source, that a certain five-foot-two medical student was doing her residency in the emergency room. He didn’t tell Ben that, of course. Otherwise, that rudely-large man would have wanted to go somewhere else. And regardless of how loyal he was to his best friend, Hux wasn't about to let Ben's personal interests interfere with his one shot at seeing her again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ben grumbled as the curtain drew back.

“Good morning, Mister...” Rose peered down at her chart, pretending that she didn’t know who he was. “Solo. My name is Rose Tico, a third-year medical student from the University of Rochester, and I will be treating you today.”

Ben cut his eyes over to Hux, watching him shrug as if this was just a coincidence. 

“It says here that you’re suffering from nasal trauma. A result from an accident,” She read off her notes before looking up at him impassively. “Are you _sure_ that it was it an accident, Mister Solo? Or would you say that it was more, I don’t know, intentional?”

“What are you doing, Rose?” Ben stared at her. 

“My job,” She told him curtly, walking over to a metal stand and picking up a long, black otoscope. She attached a disposable specula to the end of it, and then came back to his bedside. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to check and see if there are any blockages in your nasal cavity.”

“Blockages?” Hux asked her, his hands behind his back, feigning interest. 

He didn’t give a shit about blockages, or if Ben had any. 

He was just looking for an excuse to talk to her.

“Occasionally, with trauma like this, the cartilage inside the nose can be bent to one side, or blood can form within the tissues, and that can cause some obstruction.” She explained as she looked both of Ben’s nostrils. “But in his case, everything seems to be fine.” She clicked off the light and stood up straight. “If anything, it’s nothing more than a minor fracture that will heal on it’s own, but we’re going to order a CT scan just to make sure that there isn’t any further damage.”

“And the fever?” Hux blinked as he stared down at her, his nerves alight.

Ben squinted at him from the bed.

“Common symptom of a broken nose. Nothing to be overly concerned about.” She answered. “But just to rule out an infection, Labs is going to come down and run some tests.”

“Will those tests detect... _all_ infections? Or just, you know, certain ones?” Hux continued, ignoring Ben’s heated gaze. 

“Is there a particular infection that you’re looking for?” Rose held the chart over her stomach as she deadpanned over to Ben. “Because if you think you might have - _Oh, I don’t know_ \- a sexually-transmitted disease, then that would require further testing.”

“I don’t,” Ben shook his head quickly, feeling the blood rush to his face. 

“Are you a doctor, Mister Solo?”

“Well, no, but...”

“Then, how do you know that you don’t?” Rose asked him without skipping a beat. “Have you been sexually-active?” 

Ben peered up at her, his heart racing, his palms sweaty, wishing that the bed would spontaneously open up and swallow him whole, like in _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. 

He was going to kill Hux for this.

“Mister Solo, if...”

“Will you _please_ just call me Ben?” He pressed his palm into his forehead, trying to soothe his headache.

“Okay, _Ben_ , you should know that I am required, by federal law, to protect your health information.” Rose informed him. “Whatever you say to me is strictly confidential. And if you are, or have been, sexually active, then getting tested is in your best interest, as well as the best interest of your _partners_.”

He stared up at her, noticing the way she said partners, as in multiple. Her professional tone just shy of accusatory; her eyes watching him, waiting, expecting him to come up with some sort of elaborate lie. 

But Ben Solo wasn’t a liar.

He told the truth even when it hurt him.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to be tested, or had never been tested. Because he had. And he would have been tested right after his drunken tryst with Bazine, but then his mother had died. And now he was here, in his hometown, staring up at Rose Tico, of all fucking people, and listening to her ask him about his sexual history, as if he was some sort of fucking _gigolo_ \- when he could count the number of women that he had slept with on both hands. 

“Ben?” Rose tilted her head, noticing his faraway daze.

“I need to be tested,” he swallowed hard.

“Okay,” she nodded quietly, accepting his answer. “I’ll put in the order.” She told him as she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a pen, clicking it. “It’ll take a few days for the results to come in, but in the meantime, we’ll be giving you a prescription for an antibiotic. Mostly just a preventative precaution, in case you do have an infection... in your nose.” She clarified. “But if your fever reoccurs, then you’ll need to come back. Okay?”

Ben nodded, then lowered his gaze. 

“And Ben?” Rose tilted her head, causing him to look back up at her. “It _was_ intentional. But for what it’s worth, you weren’t the only one that was hurt.”

\----------

“ _Make a career out of something that you love and you’ll never work a day in your life._ ”

Mrs. Holdo had told Rey that once, when she was young and wide-eyed and eager to learn, and it had taken awhile to get to this point - where work didn’t feel like, well, _work -_ but somehow, she made it happen. 

And she was proud of herself. 

Proud of the journey, the struggles, the stresses, the triumphs, and even a few of the failures, because they had all brought her _here._ To this exact moment. Where she was able to stand in a room full of roses and orchids and gardenias and dahlias, smelling the sweet aroma of their combined scents, watching as customers came in to admire her creations, and say to herself, “ _I did this. I put this into the world.”_

She was still young and wide-eyed and eager to learn, but now, at twenty-four years old, she could honestly say that she was happy.

She had a successful career that she had worked hard for, a group of friends that she could depend on, a beautiful, baby girl that was happy and healthy and loved. Plus, she had the comfort and stability of a town that Ani could grow up in. 

It didn’t make her wealthy, by any means, but wealth wasn’t always measured by how much money someone had. 

And if this was all that Rey would ever have - a small flower shop, a reliable support system, a daughter to love - then it was enough. 

She changed the sign on the door from ‘CLOSED’ to ‘OPEN’ and took the ‘ _Gone to lunch!_ ” note off of the window, taking it over to the counter and swapping it out for a white, bib apron. She put it over her neck, tying it around her waist, and then came around behind the bar, checking her wristwatch. There was a new shipment coming around four o’clock, with fresh batch of succulents for the spring, and she had an order scheduled for delivery around five, but otherwise, it was looking to be another slow day.

She tapped her finger on the interface of a silver, iPad point-of-sale system, punching her code onto the touchpad, and then once she was logged in, the doorbell chimed. 

Rey looked up, smiling as a little, old lady with long, white hair plodded into the shop. Her cane clicking on the hardwood floors; her feet scooting. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Tano!” She waved. “How are you today?”

“Old and tired, Rey. Old and tired.” Ahsoka answered as she ventured further into the room, eyeing the displays. “How’s our Little Ani doing?”

“Growing,” Rey smiled. “I’ll have to bring her by to visit you again soon.”

“Please do.” She said with a glint in her eye, “I’d love to see her.”

As Ashoka browsed through the arrangements, all the while knowing that she would end up getting the same thing she bought every week, Rey decided to check her phone to see if she had text from Finn. It was his day-off, so he was babysitting Ani, claiming that there was no point in paying a stranger for something that he’d gladly do for free. Which, honestly, was a relief, considering how Rey had never liked the idea of her daughter staying with someone that she hardly knew.

“Rey, dear, I think I’ll take this one.” Ahsoka called to her from across the room, pointing at a red, hibiscus centerpiece. 

Rey grinned as she came around the counter and walked over to where the elderly woman was standing. She bent down, picking up the one that Ahsoka wanted, and brought it over to the register to ring her up. Typing the serial number into the iPad and removing it from her inventory log.

Then, as she was finishing up the sale, the bell chimed again. 

She glanced over to greet her next customer, but when she saw who it was, she froze. Her finger hovering an inch away from the iPad screen; her breath catching in her throat. She thought that he had left after the funeral, that he had gone back to his fancy life with his fancy name and his fancy band. Yet, there he was, black eye and all, standing next to the door. His hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans; his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t quite have the nerve yet.

Rey let go of the breath she had been holding, darting her eyes back to the screen and completing Ahsoka’s order. “That’ll be $25.98, Mrs. Tano.”

“Alright, let me see what I’ve got here.” She told Rey as she slowly unzipped her billfold. 

Rey could see Ben out of the corner of her eye, walking around behind Ahsoka as if he were waiting in line. His hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck; his breath coming out in shallow bursts. 

“Rey, can we...”

Her head snapped up, “I’m with a customer.”

He swallowed hard, nodding as he stepped back, waiting patiently. His arms crossing over his chest; his biceps stretching the hem of his sleeves. Not that Rey noticed. Because she didn’t. She definitely did not notice. 

“Here’s twenty-three.” Ahsoka said as she laid a ten dollar bill, along with two fives and three ones, on the counter. “You don’t mind change, do you, honey?”

“Not at all,” Rey smiled down at her. 

“I think I’ve got some in here.”

Rey watched the old woman dump a handful of dimes, nickels, and pennies next to the paper bills, and then when Ahsoka began to separate them one by one, counting out loud, Ben looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His dark eyes staring down at the change, watching Ahsoka’s wrinkled, index finger push them across the counter. 

“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, and ninety-eight...” Ahsoka finished with a pleased grin. “There you go.”

“Here, Mrs. Tano, let me help you take this to your car.” Rey offered as she picked up the vase and hurried around the counter, avoiding Ben’s gaze.

She lead Ahsoka to the front of the shop, half-expecting him to follow her, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his arms falling open, his hands shoving back into his pockets as if he didn’t know where else to put them, and waited for her to come back.

She was half-tempted not to. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

Then, before she had time to open the door, Ahsoka turned around, glaring at him over her shoulder and grumbled, “You’re an idiot, Ben Solo.”

Rey pressed her lips together, the corners quirking into a hint of a smile, and as she helped Ahsoka out of the store and onto the sidewalk, she could have sworn that she heard him mutter, “ _I know.”_

Ahsoka’s mint-green, Volkswagen Beatle was parked on the curb, right in front of the shop, the paint shining in the afternoon sun, and as Rey ushered her around to the driver’s side door, the elderly woman peered up at her with a knowing grin.

“Don’t take him back yet, honey.” She said quietly. “Make him beg first. It’ll feel good to watch him beg.”

“Ben and I... We’re not...” Rey shook her head nervously. “Mrs. Tano, we’re not getting back together.”

Ahsoka let out a quiet laugh, patting Rey on the arm. “We’ll see.”

\----------

When Rey walked back into flower shop, Ben was still standing in the same spot that she had left him in. His tall, treelike body towering over the display cases; his feet planted into the floor like roots. He looked like he needed to move, or pace, or leave, but he didn’t. He just stood there, watching her, his eyes as open and as expressive as they’ve ever been.

Rey had always been able to read Ben like a hardback novel, knowing exactly what he was thinking, or feeling, or wanting, just by the look on his face. The way his jaw worked overtime to swallow his anxieties, or how the skin beneath his eye would twitch whenever he was angry. He had never been very good at bluffing her, or keeping his insecurities from her, and it was obvious, with every shaking breath that he drew in, that he still couldn’t.

But the thought of him being so openly vulnerable wasn’t as satisfying as she had hoped it would be. Not just because she was still in love with this oversized dumbass, but because she knew just how deep those insecurities ran. How he fought to cover them up with cold and apathetic detachment, or how he had always struggled to express how he really felt, or voice what he needed. Yet, despite how unsatisfying it may have been, reminding Ben Solo of his own self-worth wasn’t her responsibility anymore - no matter how badly she wanted it to be.

“Can I help you find something?” She asked with forced disinterest, refusing to let him know just how much he still affected her.

If there was one thing that Rey had learned in the past five years, it was that she deserved to be earned. She deserved certainty, stability, and consistency. Not just the promise of forever, but a guarantee of it. And regardless of how much she loved this insufferable man, simply loving him wasn’t enough for her anymore. 

“You, uh...” He wrestled with his thoughts. “You still work here.”

She knew that he wasn’t trying to belittle her. He was just stating a fact. 

But still, it lit a fire in her.

“I don’t just work here,” She glared up at him. “I _own_ it.”

Ben let out a soft breath, a smile threatening to form on his lips. “That’s - That’s great, Rey.”

“Amilyn retired last year. So, I bought it from her.” 

More like, _took out a loan from the bank_ , but he didn’t have to know that.

“I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah, you see, I actually did something with my life after you walked out on me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, answering his praise with heat. “I made something of myself. And I didn’t have to run away in order to do it.”

He pinched his brows together, staring down at the floor, “Rey, I’m...”

“Ben, have you noticed that no one here has ever spoken to the press about you?” She cut him off, afraid to let him finish that sentence. “That no one has ever told them who you really are? Or where you come from? Or how... since you’ve been home... no one, and I mean no one, has taken a picture of you and posted it on the internet? Why do you think that is?”

He swallowed hard, “Because I hurt you.”

She stared at him in frustration, wondering if he had always been an idiot, or if she was just now noticing it. “No, Ben. It’s because we protect the people we care about. We take care of each other. We’re loyal.”

His jaw twisted miserably; his eyes becoming glassy.

“But you don’t belong here anymore.” She felt her eyes begin to sting, regretting the words the moment she said them. “You don’t belong here. So, if you came back just to hurt us all over again, then maybe you should just...”

His eyes snapped up to her, his face falling. “I didn’t - I didn’t come here to hurt you. Any of you.”

Their eyes locked, unshed tears swelling between the both them. She thought that she could do this, that she could tell him to leave, to go back to the life that he had wanted so badly. But when his voice cracked, she couldn’t do it. 

“Then why are you still here?” She asked instead.

He chewed on his bottom lip, the tears in his eyes falling before he could stop them. “Because we have a child, Rey.” 

Her breath caught in her throat; her nerves coursing through her veins like lightning in a glass bottle.

She had always known that this conversation would happen, that he would find out about their daughter. And she had practiced different scenarios, prepared herself for what he might say, rehearsing what _she_ should say. But in every single one of them, Ben had been angry. He would yell and scream and throw things. Accuse her of keeping his child from him. Threaten to take her to court for full-custody. 

And yet, as she stared up at him, seeing just how miserable he was, she knew, with the utmost certainty, that this wasn’t going to go the way that she thought it would.

“You named her _Anakin_ ,” he swallowed thickly, his voice so quiet that the words were hardly audible. “I don’t deserve that, to have that, but I can’t thank you enough for doing it.”

Her lips quivered as she pressed them together; her chest pushing in and out in quick breaths. “You’re welcome,” She managed to whisper. 

“And I, um...” He said weakly, blinking through the blur. “I was wondering... if you’re okay with it... I’d like to meet her.”

“Ben...”

He stepped forward, fearing that he had gone too far, or he had crossed a line. His hands raised in surrender; his eyes scared and panicked. “I swear, I’m not going to take her from you. I would never - I would never do that.” He told her with a worried frown, trying to explain himself. “I just want to meet her, Rey. And it can be under your terms. The day. The place. She doesn’t even have to know who I am, if that’s what you want. I just want to meet her. And - and I know that I don’t have any right to ask you that. After everything that I did, I _know_ that I don’t. But she’s...”

He choked out a gasp, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to catch his breath, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Rey watched him bring his hand up to his eyes, rubbing small circles around the sockets, his pale skin becoming flushed, his throat letting out a hoarse whimper, and she quickly realized just how wrong Ahsoka had been. 

It didn’t feel good to watch him beg. 

It didn’t feel good at all. 

It felt _awful_. 

“She’s _ours,_ Rey.” His deep voice cracked. “She’s ours, and she’s beautiful, and I just - I just want to hold her. Just once. And if you don’t want me to see her ever again after that, then I won’t fight you. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you anything you want. Just, _please_ , let me see her.”

She stared up at him, wet lines staining her cheeks, her chest so tight that it was unbearable. She had told herself, a long time ago, that she would never have her heart broken again. That she would rebuilt it with a material so impenetrable, so bulletproof, that nothing, and no one, would ever be able to get through it. 

Yet, one look at him, and the damn thing was shattering like glass.

“If you... if you need time...” Ben continued nervously, his running his hand down his face, wiping the tears off of his chin. “Then, I can - I can wait. I’m not trying to pressure you. Or if you want me to go, then I’ll - I’ll go.”

Her jaw quivered, “I have never kept her from you.”

“I didn’t mean...”

“Let me finish,” she shot back, silencing him. “I have never kept her from you. But I brought her into this world by myself, Ben. I have been raising her, by myself.” Her hands were shaking at her sides; her chest tight enough to burst. “I’ve had help, from Finn, from Rose, from Poe, from your father, your _mother._ But I have raised her on my own, without you. And it has been the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. Because from the second she was born, all that I wanted, was for you to _be with me._ And you weren’t.”

“ _I know_ ,” he gave a resigned nod, his eyes an ocean.

“I found out that I was pregnant a couple weeks after what was supposed to be our wedding day,” she admitted, fighting to control her voice, silently begging for it to stay steady. “And despite being hurt and embarrassed and humiliated, I still got on a plane and flew to Los Angeles to find you, to tell you. Because I wanted you to know that you were going to be a father. Because I thought that even if you didn’t love me, then maybe you would love _her.”_

He openly sobbed, “I _do_ love you. I love both of you. _”_

“Then, I met your manager.” She clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling.

The second she said those four words, his misery turned into worry, the color draining from his face, his brows furrowing.

“You what?”

“I told him that I needed to talk to you. That it was important.” She pressed on, struggling through every sentence. “But he said that you were busy. That you were in the middle of some sort of session and that he would have you call me. But I was afraid that you wouldn’t. So, I waited. I waited for you. I - I stood outside for over an hour, until Snoke came out and told me that you had left out the back.”

“Rey, I didn’t... He never...” He whispered defeatedly, his mind being pulled in a hundred different directions.

“And I told myself,” She persisted, despite the quiver in her voice. “That if you didn’t have enough decency to talk to me, to find out what was so important, then I was never going to contact you again.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, watching him stare down at the floor. His hair falling around his face. “Because I knew that Ani and I deserved better.”

Ben let out a strained sob, shaking his head. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Would it have mattered?” She asked painfully, causing him to glance up at her. “If you knew that it was just me standing there, without knowing what I wanted to tell you, would it have mattered?”

“Rey,” he took a step towards her.

“No, Ben, answer me!” She stiffened, causing him to stop. “Would it have mattered?”

“Of course it would’ve mattered!” He furrowed his brows. “I have been in love with you since I was seventeen years old, Rey. I’m _still_ in love with you. And I should have married you. God, I should have married you. But I panicked, okay? I panicked. And I know that’s a pretty shitty excuse. But I did. I panicked. I was so afraid that I was rushing into something that I wasn’t ready for, or that if I stayed here, in this town, then I was going to miss the chance to make something of myself. To do something with my life. To _be_ somebody. Then, I got a call from Snoke the night before the wedding, telling me that the label wanted to test me with a group of guys. That they were trying to put together a band and they needed a singer. That they wanted me. And I...”

“I WANTED YOU,” she let out a desperate cry, her words cutting him like a knife. His body wincing. “If you weren’t ready to get married, then you could have told me! If you wanted to wait, then you could have told me! But you didn’t! You left me, and I have spent every day, for the last five years, wondering what I did to make you go. Thinking that it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” he shook his head quickly, his throat tightening. “It wasn’t your fault, Rey. It was mine.”

“You left without saying a word, Ben! Without telling me where you were going, or if you were okay.” She sobbed, her face twisted into a frown. “And yet, I _still_ loved you. I was _still_ ready to forgive you. All I wanted was for you to come home, to come back to me, but you didn’t. You didn’t! Instead, you - you started a whole new life without me. You changed your name, your number, and moved on as if our entire relationship never happened. Then, I had to see you on TV, on the cover of magazines, or hear your songs on the radio, and every single time, it just reminded me of how I wasn’t enough for you. How being with me wasn't enough.”

“What?” He stared at her in disbelief, his brows pinched. “No, Rey, that’s not... You were always enough.” 

“Don’t,” she warned him. 

“Don’t what?” He eased closer to her, his steps slow and hesitant, yet somehow eager. “Say it.”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” 

“I have _never_ lied to you,” he countered quickly, his deep voice soft and certain. “I’ve done a lot of things, but I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, feeling her bottom lip tremble, and then tore her eyes away from him. Glancing down at the floor, the walls, the flowers and the shelves. Staring at everything but him, _anything_ but him. 

“You were enough.” He whispered, tilting his head in hopes that she would look at him, that she would believe him. “You’ve always been enough.”

“Then why did you leave me?” She lifted her eyes to his, squeezing her arms around her chest. “And if you loved me at all, then why didn’t you come back?”

“I knew, the second I got on that plane, that I had made a mistake.” He admitted honestly. “I knew that whatever dream I was chasing wouldn’t mean a damn thing if you weren’t with me. And it doesn’t. None of it matters. The money. The fame. The records. None of it matters. I would give it all up, right now, if it meant that I could have a life with you. Because I _hate_ the person that I became without you. _I hate him_.” He said in a strained whimper, his eyes lined with swollen tears. “But I can’t take back what I did, Rey. I can’t take it back. I wish I could. God, I wish I could. But I can’t. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you, that I took you for granted, that I was too selfish to realize what I had when I had it. But that is _my_ fault. Not yours. You never did anything wrong.” He shook his head slowly. “You loved me when I couldn’t even love myself. And yet, I _still_ hurt you. I walked away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me, for a life that I don’t even want, and I’ll regret for that rest of my life. But _you._.. You were always enough.”

She let out an airy whine, a squeak, and then released the breath that she was holding. Her shoulders slumping; her resolve crumbling. She didn’t have to question the integrity of his remorse, or his guilt, because she could see in his eyes that this wasn’t a trick, or a ploy, or some sort of attempt to deceive her. The truth was in his eyes. It was _always_ in his eyes. And now, as she stared into them, watching those deep-brown pools shine like polished obsidian, she could see just how sorry he really was. It was honest and unbridled remorse. The kind that isn’t just conjured up in a matter of minutes. But one that marinates and festers and burns until it finally snaps like a sprig in a forest. 

“I love you, Rey.” His deep voice broke her out of a trance, causing her teary eyes to blink up at him through the haze, her heart thrumming in her chest. “I’m always going to love you.”

She searched his face, noticing how frighteningly calm he had become, or how - for the first time since he walked into her shop - he seemed centered, as if he had finally found his bearings. His chest rising and falling in shallow breaths; his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

The change was quick, and so subtle that anyone who didn’t know him would have missed it, but Rey knew Ben. She knew that he became the most calm when he was about to do, what he believed, was the right thing. 

“But you were right,” he shrugged sadly. “I don’t belong here anymore.”

She shuddered through a whimper, listening to him repeat her own words back to her, the pain in his voice making her stomach clench. She wanted to correct him, to tell him that she shouldn’t have said that to him, that she was just angry but she didn’t mean it, that he _did_ belong here. 

But when she opened her mouth to speak, so did he.

“And I’ll leave, I promise.” He told her softly, wiping the wetness off of his face. “I’m not here to hurt you again, or to barge into this life that you’ve made. Because you, of all people, deserve to be happy. And I know that me being here isn’t what you want, or need. So, I’ll go. I promise, I’ll go.”

 _No, no, no. That’s not..._

“Ben,” she hiccuped, her breath hitching.

“I’m, uh... I'm going to stay with Dad for a few more days,” he continued, licking his lips and looking down at his feet. “But I won’t bother you, or come back here. I just - I just wanted to ask you if I could meet her. And you don’t have to let me. I won’t blame you if you don’t. I know that she’s little. And I - I know she won’t understand. But... even if it’s only for a minute.” He let out a sharp breath, letting his eyes lift back up to her. “I just want to meet her, Rey. You know, better than anyone, how much I hated Han being gone. How I had to grow up thinking that he didn’t want me, or that I wasn’t good enough. And I’d rather die, right now, than to put my own kid through the same thing. But if you think that seeing me isn’t what’s best for her, then I’ll...”

“Ben, you can meet her.” She said in a rush, her heart beating so hard that she could feel it through her skin. 

His head snapped back to her, his whole body deflating. “What?”

“You can meet her,” she told him again. “I want you to meet her.”

He let out a long, hard breath, a wide grin spreading across his face, his dimples deepening, but then his smile faded as quickly as it came. “You - you mean it?”

“Yes, Ben. I mean it.” She nodded, knowing all-to-well how easily it was for his insecurities to overpower his joy. “I told you that I have never kept her from you. But this _has_ to be on my terms.”

“Whatever you want,” he said eagerly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

She peered up at him, watching his features soften, his broad shoulders relaxing, and felt her treacherous heart ache at the notion that he was willing to leave again. That he was willing to walk away _again_. Only this time, it would be because he thought that it was what she wanted. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered softly.

He stared down at her, dumbfounded, his brows drawn in. “Then, I won’t.” He shook his head quickly. “If that’s what you think is best for her, then I’ll stay. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. 

_You really are an idiot, Ben Solo._

“Or, I mean, if you...” He swallowed hard, thinking her closed eyes meant that he had said the wrong thing. “If you want me to move back home to be closer to her, then I’ll move back here. I’ll buy a house. Hell, I’ll build one.”

“Ben, no...”

“No, what? No to buying a house? Or no to building one?” He asked in a growing panic. “Because I can always just stay with Dad for awhile. I don’t have to do anything permanent, if you don’t want me to.”

“Ben, stop!” She stepped forward, bringing both hands up to his upper arms and holding him in place.

 _Oh, Sweet Jesus._ Her eyes widened, realizing what she had done, but then she felt the warmth of his skin bleed into hers, the way his muscles twitched from the contact, and she couldn’t move. He was staring down at her, breathing heavily, his own hands balled into tight fists, itching to touch her too, and then he swallowed hard, watching her look away from his face, her gaze trailing down his neck, over the expansive of his left shoulder, and to the place where she was holding him. 

There was a tattoo of a daisy on his bicep, _her favorite_.

“You hate flowers,” she whispered as her thumb grazed across the petals. 

He licked his lips, biting the bottom one between his teeth. “I used to.” He swallowed. “But then I met a girl with three buns in her hair, and she changed my mind.”

Rey half-smiled, a little thing, so subtle and fleeting, but enough for Ben to see it. And then she stepped back, letting him go. Her arms crossing over her chest again; the heat from his skin still clinging to her fingertips. “I can, um... I can bring Ani by Han’s tomorrow, if you'll be there.”

“I’ll be there.” He nodded quickly, resisting the urge to reach out and hold her.

"Then, we'll see you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Ben. You big, overgrown idiot.


	7. My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben finally meets his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, FRIENDS. 
> 
> I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update. I've had a lot going on, but I'm back now! And I'm excited to share this chapter AND the next one, which should be ready this weekend. I'll be splitting them into two parts. The first focusing primarily on Ben and Ani. The next will focus on Ben and Rey. Our boy has a lot that he needs to say to her. But for now, I wanted to give you all a (slightly) fluffier chapter. Something to help us all get through this scary and uncertain time. (I hope all of you are staying safe and healthy!)
> 
> The song for this chapter is "My Girl," by The Temptations. :)

“I’m Ben.... Ben Solo”

“I’m your... I’m your... father... No, your Dad? Daddy? I’m your daddy. No, _shit_ , Rey wouldn't want that yet.”

"Hi, I'm Ben.... Ben Solo."

He had been pacing in circles around Han’s foyer for at least twenty minutes, ringing the sweat off of his hands and peeking through a set of off-white mini-blinds every time he heard a car go by. 

Rey had said that she would bring Ani by around one, and it was already twelve minutes after, and Ben was starting to sweat through his flannel - wondering where they were, or if they were having car trouble, or if something else had come up, or if Rey had changed her mind and decided to call the whole thing off. 

“Who could blame her?” He sighed to himself as he ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.

The poor man was wound up tighter than a guitar string. His mind seamlessly wandering from one thought to the next without so much as a buffer. He had been trying to wind back down for the past few hours, closing his eyes and counting his breaths, doing pushups in the living room, binge drinking glasses of water, stress eating bowls of cereal. 

Han had told him, more than once, _to just sit the fuck down,_ claiming that he was going to give himself a heart attack, but whenever Ben tried to sit the fuck down, one of his knees would start bouncing, or his thoughts would race, and then he _had_ to move again. He had to. His brain was all-but demanding him to go, go, go, go, do, do, do, do. And it was taking everything he had in him to keep from pulling his hair out. 

He had changed his outfit at least seven different times, throwing band t-shirts over his shoulder, emptying both his closest and his dresser, calling Hux for help. And even though Han had assured him, multiple times, that he looked fine, Ben still felt like a big, fucking lumberjack waiting to get laid off from the sawmill, with his long-sleeved, red-flannel shirt buttoned up to his throat and a pair of dark-washed jeans that, by the grace of God Almighty, still fit him after all these years.

He thought he looked ridiculous, like some knockoff version of John Bender, and although he, too, could strike a match off his teeth, this wasn’t really the vibe that he was going for. He wanted something more.... approachable. Something that would make a good first impression. But it was either _this,_ or a faded, Black Sabbath t-shirt. And since he wasn’t sure if a four year old was old enough to fully appreciate Ozzy, he took a gamble on _this._

Plus, Rey liked flannel. 

Or at least, she used to like flannel.

_Does she still like flannel?_

_Surely, she likes flannel._

He glanced down at his chest, making sure the buttons were still holding up, and then he unfastened the one at his throat. Needing the extra room to breathe. And after releasing a long, hard sigh through puffed-out cheeks, he heard a car pull up outside. The brakes whistling; the engine sputtering. 

Han had tried to prepare him for this moment, offering to give him a few pointers on what Ani liked, what she disliked, things that he could talk to her about. But there were only so many conversations to be had about cereal, and Ben didn’t know the first thing about PAW Patrol. Nor did he know how to make homemade slime out of glue, or fashion tiny, little friendship bracelets out of string, and he didn’t have the ability to sit still long enough to complete a jigsaw puzzle. 

But this was his daughter, his baby, and by shit, he was going to try.

He stared out the storm door, standing a few feet away from the glass, and let out another deep sigh as Rey stepped out into the afternoon sun. Her hair braided in a crown around her head; her curves clothed in a mauve-colored babydoll dress that rode up her thighs. He brought a hand up to his chest, rubbing circles over his sternum to relieve the ache, and watched as she dropped her keys onto the pavement. She bent down to pick them up, and he quickly turned his head, blinking, breathing, counting to twenty, and when he looked back around, she was helping Ani out of the backseat.

_I have a daughter. I have a daughter. I’m a father._

The corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked and toothless grin, his eyes glossy and burning in the best way, and then he let out an airy laugh, one that could’ve easily been mistaken for a breath, as he watched Ani hop out of the car. Her little hand reaching up to take Rey’s. 

She was small, _so small_ , with his dark hair, and his brown eyes, and his wide mouth. She had Rey’s nose and ears, thank God, as well as her bubbly charm, but everything else was all him. 

And he wanted to hold her. 

God, he wanted to hold her.

But as the two of them approached the front door, Ben couldn’t even move to open it. 

His chest heaving out harsh gasps; his hands shaking at his sides. 

He watched in a daze as Rey pulled on the handle, her arm reaching out to help Ani step over the high stoop, and then once they were inside the foyer, Rey craned her neck up to look at him, her lips parted, her hazel eyes roaming over his shoulders and down his arms. 

Flannel had been a good idea. 

But standing there, fumbling like an besotted fool, was not. 

He cleared his throat, opening his mouth to say something, but then he immediately closed it. His jaw working through his thoughts; his body vibrating. 

Rey clearly noticed his fear, or sensed it, because her expression softened and her lips showed a hint of a smile, but his mind was so scattered that he couldn’t string together a single sentence. And he still wasn’t moving. Or speaking. Or blinking. Was he even breathing?

“Ben,” Rey whispered gently through the side of her mouth, trying to snap him out of whatever world he was in. And as his eyes drifted down to hers, she mouthed, “ _You’re too tall. Bend down._ ”

He nodded nervously, and then squatted down until he and Ani were eye-level, trying to make himself seem less... large. His arms draped over his knees; his joints popping like a glow stick. He hoped that this might be better, less imposing. But then her big, brown eyes widened and she scurried backwards, hiding behind Rey’s leg.

And the second she did it, the second she shied away from him, Ben felt his soul leave his body. 

His shoulders slumping in defeat; his heart tearing in half.

_Oh, God, she’s afraid._

_She’s afraid of me._

_No, no, no, no. Please, don’t..._

Rey quickly sunk down along with them, wrapping her arm around Ani’s back, “Sweetheart, this is... This is Ben.” She soothed her. “Can you say hi?”

Ani burrowed closer to her mother, clutching a wired, hardback notebook to her chest and eyeing him skeptically. 

“She’s not - She’s not usually this shy,” Rey quipped with a nervous laugh, then once she realized what she had said, she wanted to kick herself, because that was _definitely_ not helping.

“Hi, Ani.” Ben managed to whisper. “I’m, uh... I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

Rey felt her stomach drop. Her throat moving as she swallowed. 

Ben looked over at her worriedly, trying to determine if that was okay, if he was doing okay, or if he should have said something else. Were they friends? Did he just lie to his own child? _Fuck_. His hands were trembling as he balled them into a fist, hoping the pressure would calm his nerves, and before he could sink further into his own personal Hell, he watched Rey reach over to the wired notebook that Ani was holding. Her finger gently tapping on the cover as inconspicuously as possible; her head nudging for him to look.

She was throwing him a life raft. 

“Do you - do you like to draw?” He asked quietly, trying to smile.

Ani nodded, which was... _something_. 

Ben was good with something. He could do something.

“I - I like to draw too,” he told her as he memorized every inch of her face, noticing that she had her mother’s freckles and one or two of his moles. 

“You do?” Ani asked him.

And Ben could’ve sworn, right then and there, that he had heard heaven and all of the angels through the sound of her voice. It was so soft and delicate, as sweet as honey, and he wanted to keep hearing it. 

He needed her to say something else. Anything and everything else.

“ _Yeah_.” He said in a longing sigh, his eyes threatening to water. “I love to draw.”

She slowly lifted her head off of Rey’s shoulder, glancing down at his fists, and then she tilted her head, blinking. “Did you draw on your hand?”

“Wh...” Ben sucked in a short breath, dropping his gaze to where she was looking. “Oh, these...” He held up his arm, spreading his fingers and showing her the tattoos that his long-sleeved flannel wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding. “No, these are... I didn’t draw these. Well, I did... I - I drew them, but I didn’t draw them on me. Someone else did.”

Rey covered her mouth, hiding her grin as she watched the tips of his ears flush to a pale pink. 

“Can you wash them off?” Ani asked him with growing interest.

“No, sweetheart, I...” He tried not to laugh. “I can’t. They don’t come off.”

“I drew on the wall one time, and it didn’t come off either.” She stepped closer to him, finding some sort of commonality in that, and then she held out her notebook for him to see it. “Do you want to draw with me?”

His eyes immediately shot up to Rey, giving her a worried look, silently asking her if that would be alright, if she was okay with it. And then when she nodded, her lips curving into a small smile, he returned his focus back to Ani. “I would - I would love to.” He breathed softly.

“Mommy,” She swung around, her eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “Can I go draw with Ben?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Rey let out a relieved sigh. “Of course you can. Just don’t get any of it on the table this time, okay? Stay on the page.”

Ani shrugged, like a typical Solo, and turned back to Ben while Rey began to dig a box of markers out of a gray backpack. 

“Come on, Ben!” Ani said as she took his hand. 

Such a simple thing to her, a way to lead someone wherever she wanted them to go, but to Ben, having her take his hand was everything. Just the feeling of her little fingers latching on to his, and the trust that came with it, made his heart soar.

He stood up to his full height, letting her little arm tug him towards the living room as if she were pulling a stubborn mule, and then he turned to Rey, mid-step, watching her hold out the markers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes half-sodden.

She knew by the look on his face that he wasn’t thanking her for the markers, but she nodded anyway. “You’re welcome.”

His gaze lingered on her for a second longer, wishing that he could say more, to tell her just how thankful he really was, but he was afraid that if he didn’t go into the living room with Ani, then she might change her mind about wanting to draw with him. And the last thing he wanted was to lose this moment. 

So, he followed her through the doorway, leaving Rey standing in the foyer.

She dragged him over to the coffee table, their hands slowly parting, and as she plopped down on the floor, he stood there for a minute. Watching in a daze as she opened her sketchbook and tore him off a page. Her eyes blinking up at him expectantly; her face practically screaming, “ _Well, are you gonna sit down?_ ” And of course, he was going to sit down. He absolutely wanted to sit down. But Ben was a large man. And if he sat on the couch, then he would have to bend over to draw. And the coffee table was one of those low-on-the-ground pieces that Leia had bought in the 90s, and his back was already protesting, just thinking about it. But he had to do _something_ , because she was staring at him, and he didn’t want to disappoint her, so he awkwardly tried to make himself some room on the floor between the table and the couch. His long legs folding underneath him; his knee bumping on the hard, wooden edge with a light pop.

Ben peered over at her, rubbing his knee. “So, what do you - what do you like to draw?” 

“Flowers. People. Lotsa things.” She pushed her hair out of her face as she took the markers from him, opening the top. “Do you like flowers?” She asked him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I.... Well... I like some of them,” he admitted.

“Mommy has a bunch of flowers in our house. That’s why I know how to draw them.” She continued, clearly satisfied by his answer. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite flower?” Ben blinked, his mouth twisting in thought. “I, uh... I like daisies, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s Mommy’s favorite too! And mine! Well, I like roses too. But they’re harder to draw. Sometimes, I trace them with a stencil, but we didn’t bring any of those with us.”

Ben couldn’t help but grin as he watched her pop the cap off of a pink marker. 

She may have looked like him, but she was _exactly_ like Rey. All bright-eyed and cheery and nearly bursting with excitement. And it was obvious, just by what little time had passed, that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to talk and talk and talk without needing to come up for air.

“Do you live with Poppy?”

 _Wait, Poppy?_ _Who's... Oh... Han._

“No, I’m...” Ben shook his head. “I’m just staying here for a few days. I live in California.”

“What’s California?” She asked as she drew a pink circle in the center of the page. Her head tilted; her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Well, it’s... It’s a state. Like, New York.” He told her as he picked up a black marker and uncapped it.

“What’s a state?”

Ben pinched his brows thoughtfully, not quite sure how he was supposed to explain Social Studies to a four year old. “It’s a... place... where people live.” 

“Like a house?” She turned to him curiously.

“No, like a... like a... big piece of land where a bunch of houses are.”

_Oh, he is terrible at this. But, God love him, he’s trying._

Rey was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, a soft smile on her face. They didn’t know that she was there, or that she was listening, and she wasn’t trying to pry. But she had waited so long for this moment to happen, and she wanted to be a part of it. Or, at least, she wanted to _feel_ like she was a part of it.

“Do you live in a house?” Ani blinked as she shifted her knees against the carpet, crossing her ankles. 

“Well, I have a house.” He told her as he started the outline of what he hoped would eventually resemble a daisy. Ben was used to sketching with pencils, or sometimes the occasional pen. Definitely not thick, Crayola markers that bled into the page the second he pressed down. So, this already spelled disaster. But, again, he was trying. “I don’t get to stay in it very often, or see it much, but I have one.”

Her face scrunched into a frown. “But then, where do you sleep?” 

He glanced over at her, watching the way her expressions shifted from bewilderment, to disapproval, then back to bewilderment. It was as if her brain was trying to work through the concept, unable to understand why he had a house, yet didn’t sleep in it. After all, that was the whole point of a house, wasn’t it? To live in. To eat in. To play in. To sleep in. 

Ben could practically see her thoughts churning. Her face scrunched up. Her brows knitted together. Her mouth twisted around into the most adorable pout he had ever seen. She was a wonder of wonders, with the best parts of him, and the best parts of Rey, all rolled together into one tiny little inquisitive being. And he wanted to spend the rest of his life just sorting out which pieces came from him, and which ones came from Rey. 

“Well, I sleep in hotels, mostly.” He told her. His lips quirking into a half-smile. “Or sometimes, I’ll sleep on a bus.”

“Do you go to school?” Her eyes widened to saucers; her little body scooting closer to him until their legs were touching. 

“School? No, I...” He opened his mouth, trying to understand why she would think that, and then it hit him. _Ahh._ “It’s not a school bus.” He shook his head. 

Rey covered her hand over her mouth, fighting back a snort. 

“The school bus comes by my house every morning!” Ani beamed. “Mommy says I’ll get to ride it one day when I start _kinner-garden._ But I don’t know when that is. I think I have to be five. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he smirked, letting his arm rest on the coffee table. 

Drawing could wait.

“How many is that?” She held up her hands, spreading her fingers.

He laid the marker down on the table and shifted his body around as much as he could without bumping into anything, and then he held up his own hands. “How many fingers do you have?” He nudged his chin towards her.

“Ten,” she answered quickly.

“And how many do I have?”

She studied them closely, her lips moving as she tried to count, “Ten?”

“That’s right,” he nodded. “Together, we have twenty. If you add seven more to it, then that’s how old I am.”

Her eyes bulged, a wide grin on her face. “That’s a lot! I’m only this many.” She said as she held up four fingers, tucking her thumb into her palm. “Soon, I’ll be five. And that’s when I get to go to school!”

“Are you - are you excited about going to school?” Ben dropped his hands into his lap, pressing his lips together. There was a dull ache in his chest at the thought of her already being old enough to go, reminding him of just how much he had missed out on, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Because she was answering him and he was so eager to listen.

“Yeah! I’m really, really _egg-cited_. Because I get to make a lot of friends and have my own backpack and Mommy said she would make me peanut butter and banana sandwiches to take with me. And I’ll get better at stuff.” She said as she climbed on top of his lap, causing his brain to immediately short circuit.

Ben froze to stone, his breath hitching, his eyes wild and nearly popping out of their sockets, and watched as she gripped onto the sleeve of his flannel shirt, maneuvering around on his bent leg until she was comfortable. 

It was so sudden, so unprompted, as if she had just decided, on her own whim, that he would make a much better seat than the floor. Not that he was complaining. This was exactly what he had wanted. To be near her. To be able to hold her. But now that the moment was here, and he was in the perfect position to do it, to hold her, Ben couldn’t even think, let alone move.

“I know a lot of colors, and I can count to eleven.” Ani pressed on, unfazed by his awestruck gawking. “And I can write my name! Do you wanna see, Ben?”

“I would. I do.” He nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

She leaned forward, picking up the black marker, and held it in her hand before looking back at him, making sure he was really watching. And then, when he smiled, she turned back around and started writing her name at the bottom of the page he had been drawing on. 

She made an ‘A’ with slow but focused determination, the lines a little wobbly, the shape a little slanted, and then she started on the ‘N’ as Ben shifted his gaze between her hand and the back of her head. His eyes tracing every curl of her hair; his fingers slowly rising to brush them off of her shoulder. 

He had never thought that it would be possible to be so utterly in awe of someone that wasn’t Rey, or that he could be so fiercely in love with someone that he had just met. Yet, he loved her as much as he loved her mother. And even though he knew that he’d never deserve either of them, he was ready to thank every single deity that would listen, just for letting him have this moment.

“A-N-A-K...” She whispered to herself, furrowing her brows in thought.

“I” Ben encouraged her softly.

Ani pressed her lips together as she wrote the letter, blissfully unaware that Ben’s eyes had begun to water, or that her mother was still a few feet away, nursing a few tears of her own. And by the time Ani had finished the final ‘N,’ Ben couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm around her. His long limb curling around her waist like a protective shield; his chest pressing into her back. 

“That’s a really pretty name,” he said as he quickly wiped his eyes, not wanting her to see that he was crying.

“Thank you,” she grinned. “Do you wanna write your name too?” She asked as she leaned back into his embrace, lifting the marker up to him.

“Sure,” he swallowed hard, feeling her hand reach down and grab onto his forearm, holding him just as tightly as he was holding her. “But I don’t have as many letters as you do. I only have three.”

She relaxed against him, watching the tip of the marker brush across the page a few inches below ANAKIN, and when he was done, she twisted her neck around to peer up at him. “That’s your name?”

“That’s my name.” He nodded.

Her head was resting against his chest, her curls smushed into his shirt, and after a handful of seconds, she had another question. One that Ben wasn’t ready for. 

And by the stunned look on her face, neither was Rey.

“Ben, how come Mommy’s never mentioned you before?” She asked him with a curious frown. “You said that you were her friend. But I know all of her friends. Aunt Rose. Uncle Finn. Uncle Poe. How come I didn’t know you too?”

Rey’s face sank, her breath hitching. She didn’t want him to have to answer that, and she was certain, just by how long it was taking him to say something, that he didn’t want to answer it either. 

“Well, I...” He gulped. “I haven’t been here in a long time. I haven’t - I haven’t seen your mom in a long time. The, um... The last time I saw her, you weren’t born yet.”

“Were you in California?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” His chest tightened. “I was in California.”

“Did you miss Mommy while you were in California?” She asked him curiously, liking the way that word sounded.

Ben smiled sadly, nodding. “Very much.”

“I think she missed you too.” Ani smiled sweetly, blinking up at him. “She was really _egg-cited_ about coming over here. She even did her makeup!” 

Rey’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, her mouth falling open. 

_Oh, dear God._

“She - she did?” Ben frowned.

“Yeah, she even wore her favorite dress!” Ani explained freely, despite the fact that her mother had turned pale in the doorway. “She usually just wears overalls or jeans. Or, sometimes, sweatpants. But I heard her tell Aunt Rose on the phone that she wanted to be pretty for once. I think she’s pretty all the time, but I guess Mommy thinks she’s prettiest when she wears a dress.”

Ben let out a soft laugh, his lips quirking into another smile. “I think she’s pretty all the time too.” 

\----------

By the time lunch was nearly ready, Ben and Ani had drawn three daisies, a two-headed dinosaur, a tree with no leaves, and a blue sun - all on the same page, right above where they had written their names. The poor drawing wasn’t going to be hung in the Louvre anytime soon, but it was _theirs_ , and Ben was already browsing through Amazon to find a frame to put it in. 

He followed her through the kitchen, shoving his phone into his back pocket after placing the order, and then helped her open the back, sliding door that lead out onto the patio. Han was standing at the grill with a towel draped over his shoulder and a pair of tongs in his hand, turning over a row of Ribeye steaks. And Rey was bent over a wooden table, picking a few fallen leaves out of the crevices. Then, after it was cleared off, she stood back up and opened a striped, outdoor umbrella to shade their chairs from the sun. 

Ben stared at her in a daze, swallowing the lump in his throat and letting the domesticity wash over him like a cold shower. She was so ethereal, so perfect, and it was obvious, just by how comfortable she looked around his father, and how cohesively the two of them worked together, that this was something that they had done before. Probably quite often. And it felt like a knife was turning in his chest, just knowing that he had missed out on every second of _that_ too. The quiet, afternoon lunches with everyone gathered on the patio: his father, his daughter, his _mother,_ his _wife._ Just being able to drape his arm over the back of Rey’s chair while Ani sat on his lap. Or listening to Han tell one of his wildly-debatable stories while Leia fact-checked him at every turn.

This was what he could’ve had. A family that needed him. A home that he belonged in. A simple, ordinary life that the world would never see. And he wanted it. He wanted it so damn bad. But as he stood there, watching it unfold right in front of him, so close that he could almost reach out and grab it, all he could hear was Rey’s soft voice echoing in his ears, telling him that he didn’t belong here anymore. And the worst part of it was that she wasn’t wrong.

He didn’t deserve this.

He was never going to deserve this.

“Mommy, can we eat now?” Ani said as she walked up to Rey. “I’m hungry.”

“It’ll be done in a minute, sweetie. Did you wash your hands?”

Ani held up her fingers, wiggling them. “Ben helped me.”

Rey smiled, smoothing her daughter’s hair off of her forehead, and then her gaze drifted over to where he was standing. Their eyes locking. “Did Ben wash his hands too?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding.

“Ben has really big hands.” Ani explained with a serious face, causing her mother’s eyes to widen. “So, it took him longer. But he washed them.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you go sit down and I’ll fix your plate?” Rey swallowed hard, refusing to look at Ben. “Do you want to try to eat a few bites of steak? Or do you just want mashed potatoes?”

“Just potatoes,” she shrugged.

“Right. Of course,” Rey sighed, knowing that getting her child to eat anything other than mashed potatoes, cereal, or chicken nuggets was a battle that she wasn’t going to win. “Then, go sit down and I’ll get you some.”

Ben drew in a deep breath, his arms hanging at his sides, and watched as Rey passed right by him and went back into the house. His neck twisting around; his eyes following her. She wouldn’t look at him, and he was afraid that he had done something wrong, or that he had somehow upset her, and before his mind had time to process what he was doing, he was chasing after her. Hoping that if he _did_ do something wrong, then he could fix it.

He walked into the kitchen, sliding the door shut behind him, and stared at her worriedly. “Rey?” He called to her. “Are you - are you alright?”

“What?” She spun around, the sudden sound of his voice making her jump. “Oh, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why?”

“Your face,” He pointed out sheepishly. “It only gets red when you’re angry or nervous. So, I thought that... I thought maybe I had upset you. And I was just...”

“You didn’t upset me, Ben.” She shook her head, swallowing. “It’s not that.”

“So, you’re nervous then.” He concluded as his eyes fell down to her lips, watching them part. 

Rey shivered through a quiet breath, struggling to school the fluttering in her belly. “Maybe a little bit.” She whispered. 

“I’m not trying to make you nervous, Rey.” He shook his head. His voice calm. “And if I have, then I’m sorry. That’s not...”

“No, it’s okay!” She blurted quickly, the words coming out in a rush. “Besides, it’s nothing new. You’ve... You’ve always made me nervous, Ben.”

He let out a soft laugh, watching her lips curve into a shy grin. It felt like such a gift to see her grin again - a gift that he knew he didn’t deserve, but one that he selfishly wanted to hold onto anyway. “God, I’ve missed that.” He sighed quietly, his voice low and filled with longing.

“Missed what?” She furrowed her brows in confusion.

He exhaled through his nose, his shoulders shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Your smile.”

Her grin widened, showing two rows of pearly-white teeth, as she breathed out a quiet, yet genuine, chuckle. 

“There it is again.” He whispered, unable to take his eyes off of her. He eased a little closer, inch by inch, stopping at a safe distance, and then tilted his head and marveled at her. “Please, don’t stop.”

She asked softly, “Wh-Why?”

“Because I’m selfish,” he answered without skipping a beat. “And seeing you smile makes me hate myself a little less.”

She stared up at him, letting the weight of his words wash over her, feeling them whisper across her skin until her arms were covered in goosebumps. She didn’t like hearing him say that. That he hated himself. Because she knew Ben. And she knew that he wasn’t saying it in the typical, millennial way. Where it was said in jest, or as some self-deprecating joke. He actually meant it. 

He even told her, just yesterday, that he hated the person that he had become without her. And she hadn’t listened then. She had been so overcome with her own emotions, so overwhelmed by seeing him again, that she didn’t catch on to what he was really saying to her. But she could hear it now. The defeat in his voice. The subtle cry for help. The way his own smile, the one that had made her fall in love with him to begin with, didn't quite reach his eyes anymore.

He wasn’t happy. 

And she had a feeling that he hadn’t been in a long time. 

He raked his hand through his hair, drawing in a deep breath, and then tore his gaze away from her. “Anyway, I know that I’m new to this whole parenting thing,” he swallowed hard. “But we should, uh... we should probably feed our kid.”

“Ben?” She said his name again, stepping forward. She refused to let him change the subject, and when his attention floated back to her, his face verging on frightened, she whispered. “You’re not the person that you think you are.” She stared up at him, watching his throat bob. “You’re not him.” 

He heaved out a hard breath, his eyes circling around every inch of her face, his jawline pulled tight. She was staring at him with so much warmth, so much care and concern, and just knowing that she could still look at him like that caused a wave of guilt to tear through his chest. She didn’t know all of the things that he had done, the choices that he had made, because if she did, then that warmth would turn to ice. And he couldn’t bear the thought of it. The thought of her hating him. 

He could handle her falling out of love with him. It would nearly kill him. And it already was, but he could handle it. Because he knew, with every breath in his body, that she deserved better than him. 

But for Rey to _hate_ him? 

Well, he guessed he deserved that too.

“ _Yes, I am._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam Driver in flannel is always a yes from me.


	8. I Need My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben tells Rey the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I hope you’re all safe and healthy and taking care of yourselves. 
> 
> This might be the longest chapter that I’ve written, and I’ll just warn you, I cried writing it. 
> 
> Also, I’ve added some new tags.
> 
> The song (which I really hope you’ll listen to, because it’s really good) is “I Need My Girl” by The National.

“ _Something brought you here. Fate. Destiny_...”

“A horse...” Han mumbled under his breath.

He and Ani were kicked back in the recliner, watching that part in Tangled where Rapunzel tied Flynn Rider to a chair and threatened to hit him with a frying pan if he didn’t take her to see the floating lights.

Rey was on the couch, chewing on her fingernails and staring up at the television without actually paying attention to it. Her bare leg crossed over the other one; her foot bouncing from side to side like she was trying to shake off a spider. Ben had gotten a phone call a few minutes into the movie and had stepped outside to take it. Telling them that he would be right back. But _right back_ had turned into thirty minutes. And now Rey was getting restless.

She had a feeling, by the way that Ben had sighed, that the caller was someone he didn’t want to talk to. Someone that he was avoiding, or dodging, or both. Like a manager from Hell... or a girlfriend. Not that it was any of her business, or that she cared, for that matter. Because she didn’t. Rey most certainly did not, in any way, care if Ben Solo had someone back in Los Angeles. And she still didn’t care whenever she stood up from the couch and walked out of the living room. Nor did she care whenever she made it to the front door. Or when her hand reached down for the handle.

She didn’t care at all. Not one bit.

“I said I’ll be there!” His deep voice all-but growled.

As she eased out onto the front porch, shutting the door behind her, she found him pacing up and down the sidewalk, his free hand digging through his hair, his expression cold as stone. He looked like he was one breath away from snapping, and Rey felt like she was interrupting something that she probably shouldn’t. So, with a soft yelp, she turned around to leave. Wanting to run back into the house and pretend that she never left the couch. But then, his eyes drifted up to hers, catching her in an awkward pivot, and his face softened.

“I’ll call you when we get there,” he said in a disoriented stupor, ending the call. His gaze never left hers as he shoved the phone into his pocket, watching her stand at the top of the porch steps. “That was... Snoke.”

She shifted nervously, clutching a hand on her opposite elbow before crossing her arms over her chest. “Everything okay?”

His lips flattened into an unconvincing smile. “Nothing that I can’t handle.”

“Are you - are you leaving?” She gulped, trying to school her expression. Hoping that she didn’t sound too eager. “I mean, I... I overheard you... and I...”

“I have to be in Manhattan on Friday,” he answered.

There was no ire in his voice, but there was no joy either. Just quiet resignation. As if he had been waiting for that call long before it came.

“You have to be?” She whispered. “Or you’re going to be?”

His face twisted into a pained, yet curious, frown. “I don’t have a choice, Rey.” He tried to explain. “If I don’t go, then Snoke is going to sue me for breaching my contract. That’s what the call was about. He’s threatening to sue me. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, if I do that, then I’ll just end up fucking myself even more than I already have.”

“You mean, he would do that?” She grimaced. Her brows pinched. “He would sue you?”

Ben blew out a bitter scoff, his body jolting through the motion. “In a heartbeat.”

“But... why? Why would he do that?”

“Because he can.” Ben deadpanned. “I signed a contract, Rey. And because I signed a contract, I am legally obligated to do what he tells me to do. Whether it be shows, or giving interviews, or making appearances, or putting out albums. I have to follow through with the terms of our agreement, or else he can slap me with a lawsuit and take me to court.” He told her as his expression shifted into something closely akin to disgust. “And I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already, considering how much money I’ve cost him this week. He had to cancel three shows because of me, and that’s not cheap.”

“Your mother died, Ben. You had a reason for leaving.”

He huffed morosely, raking his tongue over his molars. “Yeah, well, Snoke doesn’t know that.”

“What?” She frowned. “What do you mean, he doesn’t know?”

“I didn’t tell him.” His eyes flew up to her. “I didn’t tell anyone. I just left. Not that that should come as much of a surprise. It’s what I’m good at, isn’t it? Leaving without saying anything.”

The weariness in his voice made Rey flinch, and she could tell by the spasm beneath his left eye, that he was seesawing between _that_ and anger. Unable to decide which one he wanted be, or needed to be, or should be. Yet, by the sag in his shoulders, and the faraway look in his eyes, it was obvious that weariness was winning.

He looked so exhausted. As if the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders, and he didn’t have the strength or the will to shrug it off.

And she felt sorry for him. She shouldn’t. She knew that she shouldn’t. Because a lot of Ben’s problems were of his own making. And regardless of it being by choice, or by accident, he was still the architect. He was still at the center of it. But seeing him look so defeated left a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she loved him too much to ignore it.

“Then, maybe you should let him know why you left.” She said calmly, shifting to a more proactive response, rather than feeding into his pessimism. “Maybe he’ll understand.”

That was clearly not the response he was expecting.

Because his brows immediately furrowed, caught off-guard by her placidity, and with a heavy swallow he shook his head no. “I don’t want him here, Rey. And if I tell him why I left, then he’ll know where I went. And the last thing that I need is for him to come looking for me.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” She chewed on the inside of her lip. “For someone to come looking for you?”

He stared up at her, looking confused and a little disoriented. Then, as he tried to process what she was asking him — at least, enough to give her an answer — he began to wonder if they were still talking about Snoke.

Or if she was referring to something else.

Like, maybe, the fact that he had left her, too, without saying a word.

Or that she had flown all the way to... _Fuck_.

“Rey...”

“You know, Ben, for someone who never lies, you sure do have a hard time being honest.” She pressed on while the courage was still there. “You can’t just keep walking away from people, and then refuse to tell them why you left. Especially when those people depend on you, or care about you, or _love you_.”

He drew in a quiet breath, his heart clenching as the realization washed over him like a bout of freezing rain.

And in that moment, he knew, without question, that she wasn’t talking about Snoke anymore.

“I told you why I left.” He whispered carefully. His voice gentle and patient. “And I told you that it was a mistake. And it was. It was the worst mistake that I’ve ever made in my life. But leaving you, and running out on Snoke, are two very different things.”

“And how exactly are they different?” She asked him with a subtle heat in her voice. “Is it because one has consequences, and the other one didn’t?”

It felt like she had slapped him, and if there weren’t several feet between them, then he would’ve sworn that she had. “Is that what you think? That leaving you didn’t have any consequences?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” She countered, feeling her eyes begin to sting. “That you missed me? That you missed this town? Because from what I see, you got exactly what you wanted. You’re not just some would-be artist anymore with a few songs on the local radio, or a spotlight in The Coruscant Herald. You’re living your dream. You’re selling out stadiums, recording number one albums, traveling around the world with more money than you could ever spend. And all you had to do in order to make that dream come true... was _leave_.”

He huffed out a sad scoff. “Yeah, what a dream.”

“Well, am I wrong?” She stood her ground, sensing his sarcasm.

She wasn’t trying to put him on the spot, or corner him, and it was obvious — by his long, hard sigh — that Ben didn’t want to argue with her. He had never wanted to argue with her. Even back then, when they were still together. Even when he was right, and she was wrong, he still didn’t want to argue with her. She could count on three, frustrated fingers the number of times that they had actually fought about something, and every single time, it always ended with him beating her to an apology.

But this time was different.

This time, she deserved the apology.

And if she had to pick a fight with him in order to get it, then that’s exactly what she was going to do.

“Was it not what you wanted?” She pressed him.

He bit his lip, feigning a smile. One that she knew was too sad to be genuine.

“You know, when I got to LA — Snoke forced me to change my name.” He answered with his arms hanging at his sides. “He said that no one would ever want to hear Ben Solo. And that if I wanted to have a future in the music industry, then I had to let the past die. He told me to kill it. So, to keep from disappointing him, I did what he asked. I killed Ben Solo, and I became Kylo Ren.”

Rey tensed at the top of the steps, her bare feet shifting on the wood planks.

She had known about Snoke. Or, at least, she knew _of_ him. Who he was. Who he worked for. That he had shown an interest in Ben after hearing a few of his songs. But she never knew just how deep that interest had went. Or that this old man had preyed on him for months leading up to the day of their wedding. Feeding him with empty promises. Convincing him that his own family would never appreciate his talent. Gaslighting him into thinking that the only way he would ever be successful was if it was done with _his_ help.

“And, at first, I didn’t mind it. I didn’t give a damn.” He continued, dragging his tongue over his front teeth, his brows pinched in thought. “I didn’t want to be Ben Solo anymore anyway. And I thought that if I became someone else, someone that I couldn’t recognize, then maybe... just _maybe_... I’d be able to look at myself in the mirror and not _hate_ the person staring back at me.” He admitted honestly, his eyes honed in on hers, waiting for the inevitable moment where she’d finally despise him just as much as he despited himself. “But, turns out, it doesn’t matter what my name is. Because, at the end of the day, I’m still the same asshole that hurt everyone that ever cared about him.”

Rey drew in a sharp breath, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

It was taking everything in her to stand still, to keep from going to him, but she was afraid that if she did, then he would stop talking. That the topic would change. And she needed this. She needed him to apologize. Because, regardless of how hurt she had been, or how alone she had felt, or how angry him leaving had made her - she was still in love with him. She was still painfully and senselessly in love with him. And even though their love story didn’t quite go the way she had thought that it would, it was still _their_ story, and she wasn’t done writing it.

But, right now, Ben was holding the pen.

And she was terrified of what he might do with it.

“My mother died believing that I didn’t love her. Or that I didn’t miss her,” he pressed on. His jaw tight enough to break. “I made my father think that I didn’t want anything to do with him. That I was so ashamed of him that I didn’t even want to have his last name. Uncle Luke tried to reach out to me a few years ago, and I told him to go to Hell.” He scoffed bitterly. “And then there’s Armie... He’d never admit it, but I hurt him too. I took him away from his family, kept him from having a normal life, made him feel like he had to stay with me, because I was too fucked-up to be left on my own.”

Her face scrunched into a pained frown, a soft cry catching in her throat.

“But _you_ ,” he moaned in a breathless whisper. “I hurt you worse than any of them. I let you believe, _for five years_ , that I didn’t love you. Or that I didn’t want to come back to you... when I did.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” She choked out, her voice breaking. “Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t.” He told her softly. His expression remaining calm, despite the tightness in his chest, or the tears in his eyes. “I had hurt you in the worst possible way. And that made me realize that if I was capable of doing that to you, if I was capable of treating you like that, then I didn’t deserve you. And I still don’t, Rey. _I still don’t_. I didn’t deserve you then, and I damn-sure don’t deserve you now. Not after what I’ve done. I don’t even deserve to be standing in front of you.”

She shook her head quickly, “That’s not true.”

“But _it is_. It is true.” He countered in a whisper, his lips pressing together in a sad smile. “You’re the best person that I’ve ever known, Rey. You’re smart, and funny, and strong, and so good. _You’re so fucking good_. You light up a whole room, just by being in it. You make life better for everyone around you, just by _existing_. And you deserve to be happy. You deserve it more than anyone. And not just sometimes. But every single day. And I, _fuck_ , I should’ve given it to you. I should’ve tried harder to be what you needed me to be. But I didn’t.” He shrugged miserably. “Instead, I hurt you. But I didn’t just hurt you. I hurt my mother. I hurt my father. I hurt Luke, and Chewie, and Maz, and Armie. I hurt everyone that’s ever given a damn about me, and for what? _For what_? For a life that I can’t fucking stand, and a name that isn’t even mine?” He choked out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked away from her. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m just existing, and I hate it. I hate every fucking second of it. But I did this to myself. I wanted to get rid of Ben Solo because I was too much of a coward to just admit that I had been wrong. That I had made the wrong choice. So, that’s exactly what I did. I got rid of him.”

“But you didn’t!” She cried out, stepping forward just enough for the tips of her toes to hang over the edge of the top step. “You are still Ben Solo!”

_And I love you._

“I’m a recovering drug addict, Rey.” He admitted quickly. He didn’t want to go down this road, but he needed her to hear it. He needed her to know just how wrong she was about him. “Two months after I got to LA, I started taking Xanax.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Snoke... He... He said that I wasn’t _sane_ enough to be worth the amount of money that he was putting into me. That I was this... this broken boy...” He squinted through the tears. “And that he didn’t waste time on broken _things_. So, he gave me the number to this psychiatrist in Calabasas, and told me that I could either fix it, or find a new manager.”

Rey’s brows furrowed sadly, her heart clenching at the thought of someone saying that to him.

“But I guess Xanax just wasn’t enough,” he shrugged in resignation. “Because I started shooting heroin about three months later. And then heroin turned into cocaine, and before I knew it, I was chasing that rush, that numbness, with everything that I had in me. I couldn’t function without it. And Armie, he had tried to get me to stop. Said that I was going to end up dying, if I didn’t. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. And, evidently, Snoke didn’t either.” He added with a sharp huff. His jaw working through a wobble. “He made sure that I had whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. Just as long as I kept writing songs.”

“How...” She heaved out a whisper, her eyes flooded. “How could he...”

“Because, apparently, I’d be worth more if I was dead.” He licked his lips, tasting the salt on his tongue. “Sales would _skyrocket_.”

“He - he said that to you?” She whimpered, feeling her stomach twist into a tightly-woven knot.

“Not directly,” he clarified as he ran a hand down his face, wiping away the wetness. “I, um... I overdosed after a show in Phoenix a couple years ago. Nearly died, then. And I probably would’ve if Armie hadn’t found me. But, Snoke... He was... He was on the phone, at the hospital, and Armie overheard him. He heard him say it. And I should’ve - I should’ve walked away from him then, but I didn’t. I was too afraid if I did, then I’d lose my career.”

A breath tore through her lungs, “Your career? What about your _life_ , Ben?”

“My career was my life!” He countered sadly. “It was the only thing that I had left that mattered. And Snoke would’ve destroyed it.”

“You could’ve _died_.” She whispered weakly. Her voice trembling.

“I know,” he nodded. “I was in a really bad place. And I’m not proud of it. But after I got out of the hospital, I got clean. Checked myself into rehab. Gave Armie all of my money, so that he could know where and how I was spending it. And I haven’t touched any of it since. I’m good now. I’m better.”

Her face softened into a sad, yet relieved, smile. As if a weight had been put on her shoulders, and then immediately taken back off. Just knowing that he wasn’t doing that anymore. That he was clean.

“I mean, I still drink...” He continued nervously. The panic rising in his throat. “And I smoke cigarettes, here and there. But I’m not on drugs anymore. If I was, then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t bring that around you, or Ani, or Dad. And I know that you probably think that I’m...”

“Ben,” she called out to him, forcing him to stop and look at her. She tilted her head, noticing just how lost he seemed. How beaten. And if his suffering wasn’t obvious before, then it was obvious now. She could see it in his eyes, and she wanted it to stop. She needed it to stop. “I believe you.” She whispered, grinning just enough for him to know that she meant it. “I do. I believe you.”

His shoulders dropped the second she said it. His chest shaking through a breath; his expression falling somewhere between relief and anguish.

It made her heart ache to know that he thought that she wouldn’t.

“And I’m proud of you,” she added, sensing that her belief in him wasn’t quite hitting the mark. “It couldn’t have been easy overcoming something like that. But you did. And now, you’re here. And you’re healthy.”

“Don’t,” he shook his head slowly. “Please, don’t.”

“Why not?” She walked down one of the steps, and then stopped. Her eyes honed in on him. “Because you think that you don’t deserve it? Am I not allowed to be proud of you?”

“I don’t want you to be proud of me,” he choked out in a strained whimper. His mouth working through a disheartened frown.

“Well, that’s too bad.” She insisted, letting the sun warm her freckles. “Because I am. I’m proud of you. And that’s not going to change just because you don’t feel worthy of it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching her walk down the few remaining steps and begin to close the distance between them. She looked so calm, so certain, like an angel of mercy ready to welcome him into Heaven. And he wanted it. He wanted every scrap that she was willing to toss him. Because right now, in this moment, Ben felt closer to paradise than he had in a long time.

She was better than any drug he had ever taken.

But there was still something about him that she didn’t know.

Something that he knew would undoubtedly send him right back to Hell.

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” she whispered, staring up at him. Her gaze wandering between his eyes and his lips. “All that I care about is that you’re _here_. And that you’re _safe_. And that you’re _alive_.”

“Rey, please, listen to me... _I don’t deserve y_...”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, lifting her arm towards his face. “I heard you the first time.”

She knew that words were something that Ben had trouble believing. That he was much more responsive to touch, rather than simply being told. 

But before she could touch his cheek, Ben reached up and stopped her. His hand gently closing around her wrist. His fingers splayed across the width of her knuckles. His thumb grazing along her palm with a barely-there tenderness. She furrowed her brows in confusion, drawing in a breath, and watched the way his Adam’s apple dipped through his throat as he swallowed.

“Ben?”

He knew that this was going to be the end of him. That whatever shot he had at love, or happiness, or belonging, was about to die, right here, on his father’s front lawn. And he hated it. _He fucking hated it_. Because she was standing there, looking up at him, with nothing but love and warmth in her eyes, as if his life had meaning, as if he fucking mattered, and he wanted to revel in it. He wanted to hold her, and kiss her, and worship her, this day and every day after, because she and Ani were the best things that God had ever put in his life, but more than that, he wanted to be the kind of man that deserved her. The kind of man that deserved both of them.

And in another life, maybe he would’ve been.

But this was the only life that Ben was going to get, and he knew what he had to do. He hated it. But he knew. And, even though it was killing him, he had the strength to do it.

“I slept with someone else,” he confessed in a quiet whisper. His voice surprisingly steady, despite the tears.

She stared up at him, frozen and unmoving, as his words began to work their way into her mind. It was delayed, at first. As if her defenses were desperately trying to block it out. But then, once it hit, once she realized exactly what he had said, she slowly pulled her hand away from him. Letting it linger for a moment in the space between them before she brought it back down to her side. Her shoulders sinking; her heart beating so hard, and so loud, that she was sure that he could hear it.

“Y - You what?”

He held her gaze, unwilling to shy away from his shame, or fold under the weight of his own guilt, because he knew that if he was going to tell her the truth, the whole truth, then she deserved, in the very least, to have him look her in the eyes when he did. “I’ve slept with other people.” He swallowed thickly. “Nine of them. The first one was about two years after I left. The last one... was right before I came home.”

She let out a shaking breath and crossed her arms over her chest as if she were trying to hide herself from him. “Why?” She asked breathlessly. “Why would you?”

“I don’t have an excuse.” He stared at her with a defeated look on his face. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t insult you by giving you one.”

“So, you - you don’t have anything to say? Nothing at all? No - no regrets?” She winced through a frown, trying to understand. “You just admit to sleeping with other people, and I’m what? I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“No?” She furrowed her brows. “No, what, Ben? No, you don’t have anything to say? No, you don’t regret it?”

“I don’t expect you to be okay with it.” He bit down on his bottom lip, hoping that the pressure would stop it from trembling. “But I’ve been trying to tell you, _all day_ , that I don’t deserve you. And I wasn’t just saying it, Rey. I really don’t.”

“Are you even _sorry_?” She whispered desperately.

He choked out a strained scoff, feeling the tears seep from the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’m sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry. But being sorry isn’t good enough. It won’t change what I did. It won’t fix it.”

“You said that I was enough. Yesterday, you said that I was enough.”

“What?” He choked out a gasp, his heart breaking. “You are. Rey, you...”

“But then you tell me that you’ve been...” She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to finish her sentence. She brought her hand up to her mouth, covering her frown.

“They didn’t — They didn’t mean anything to me,” he tried to explain. “I know that doesn’t make it any better. If anything, it probably makes it even worse. But it’s the truth. They didn’t mean anything.”

“And I guess I did?” She stared up at him. “Is that what you’re getting at?”

“I thought that I had lost you,” he countered with just enough bite in his voice to make her freeze. “It had been nearly two years since I had seen you, and by then, I was so fucked up on heroin that I barely even knew my own name, let alone what I was doing. And I know that’s not an excuse. But I was. I was fucked up.” His eyes were welled with tears, forcing him to blink just to be able to see her. “The first time it happened, I was blacked out at Snoke’s. We were about to release our second album and he had thrown a private launch party at his house in Beverly Hills. I didn’t even want to go, but appearances are in my contract, and he told me that if I wasn’t there, then he would cut me off. So, I showed up, drunk off my ass. Just wanting to get it over with. But sometime through the night, I ended up downstairs, on a couch, shooting lines off of the coffee table with three of the guys in the band. Cardo, T, and Vic. It was just us. _I swear to God, it was just us_. But they must have left after I passed out. And when I woke back up, this girl was...”

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling Rey’s eyes stay on him. But he was afraid of what he might see if he looked at her, so he stared down at the ground. His throat constricting until it was nearly impossible to breathe; his temples throbbing.

He didn’t want to tell her this. He didn’t want to tell her any of this. But once the truth started pouring out of him, he couldn’t stop it.

“She was just there...” He choked out. “And she looked like you. And I know that I’m a fucking bastard for even thinking that. I know I am. But I wanted to feel _something_. Anything. So, I didn’t stop her. I didn’t want to.”

He didn’t tell her the part where he had left before they could even finish. Or that he had met Snoke in the hallway, as he was leaving, and the son of a bitch had the audacity to ask him if he enjoyed his present. Because telling her that wouldn’t change the fact that he had wanted to fuck that girl. That he had consented to it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he finally lifted his gaze back over to her, searching her eyes for some hint of what she was feeling. “I wouldn’t deserve it, even if you were willing to. But I can’t just lie to you, and let you believe that I’m still the same person that I was when I left. Because I’m not. I’m not him anymore.”

A sob threatened to tear through her chest, but she forced it back down. Tensing her entire body in an attempt to contain it.

“And I’m sorry,” he continued. His voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry that I let that happen. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you everything that you wanted, or that I should have. I wish I would’ve. But I think that we both know that you got the best part of me already.”

She squinted curiously, wondering what he meant by that. But then his eyes drifted towards the front of the house, and she _knew_.

Ani.

“I love her.” He managed to smile, even though the words came out in a whimper. “And I want her. I want all of her. I want everything that you’re willing to let me have. But I’m not a good person, Rey. I’m not. And if I’m not a good person, then how could I ever... how could I ever be a good father?”

As soon as he said it, as soon as it left his mouth, Rey was done for. That was all it took to make her resistance crumble. Just that whispery hopelessness, that peek of vulnerability, or the way that his voice cracked when he said the word _father_ , as if he hadn’t quite earned the right to say it.

And Ben could try to double back all he wanted, or try to center himself, or steady his breaths, or school his expressions, but she could see right through him.

She had always seen right through him.

He was glass to her, as transparent as a bottle of spring water, and because he was glass, Rey knew just how easy it was for him to shatter. And that was so unbearably frustrating. Because she wanted to be angry with him, and a part of her rightfully was. But the other part of her, the larger part, just wanted him to be the man that she knew he could be.

Because, damn it, she knew him. She _knew_ that he was sorry. She _knew_ that he was suffering. She _knew_ that he had made one mistake, that had snowballed into several more. And she _knew_ that he loved her. Arguably as much as she still loved him. But just because he had made some bad choices didn’t mean that he wasn’t a good man. And it certainty didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be a good father. And the fact that he would even _think_ that was tearing her to pieces.

She had reached her breaking point, and before she knew what was happening, she was wailing into her hands. Her palms pressed up to her face. Her cheeks flushed and feverish until her skin felt hot enough to scald. Her shoulders shaking through every shuddering breath, like a washing machine set to spin. She didn’t care if the neighbors could hear her, or if Han had to turn up the volume on TV, or if Mr. Greedo was spying on them from his mini-blinds.

All Rey wanted was for this insufferable, over-grown behemoth, with the body of Whirlpool refrigerator, to stop being a real-life, Shakespearean tragedy.

“Rey?” He called out to her worriedly, his boots scooting across the pavement.

“You could be a good man!” She cried out desperately, throwing her hands out. “You could be a _great_ man. And you could be an even _greater_ father.”

He staggered to a standstill, his mouth parting just enough to suck in a breath.

“But you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you don’t deserve it, so now you’re not even bothering to try!” She railed into him, holding nothing back, fighting to get her point across. She marched right up to him, craning her neck to meet his eyes, and watched him flinch. _Good, let him flinch_. “You’re not trying! You’re just letting go and walking away, because you’ve got it in your head that we’d all be better off without you. That you’re this - this broken and unlovable _thing_ that isn’t worthy of being forgiven, or cared about, or fought for. But you’re wrong, Ben! You couldn’t be more wrong! Because you _are_ lovable.” Her voice cracked; her eyes swelling with tears. “ _You’re lovable_.” She whispered. “I would know... because I’ve spent my whole life loving you.”

He let out a strangled whine. A sound so deep, yet so stifled, that he sounded like a dying animal. And Rey knew, in that moment, that she had finally hit the mark. That this was _his_ breaking point. And when he sunk to the ground, his knees hitting the concrete, she didn’t hesitate to go to him.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. His eyes clamped shut. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rey.”

She released every ounce of air in her lungs, letting her relief outweigh her anger, and then with another steady breath, followed by another, she finally reached out to comfort him, knowing that this time he wouldn’t stop her.

Not that she was going to give him much of a choice.

Because whether Ben thought that he deserved it or not, this was what he needed. It was what he knew. And if comforting him was what it would take to make him realize that he was worth loving, then there wasn’t enough anger in the world that would keep her from doing it.

And at first, the sudden gentleness made him stiffen. His muscles became tense; his shoulders shrunk in an effort to make himself seem smaller. But as her fingers began to comb through his hair, brushing along the shape of his head in long, soft strokes, she felt him start to relax. It took some persistence on her part, and a little patience, also on her part, but eventually, he did. He relaxed. And, with a soft smile on her face, she continued to soothe him. Her nails gliding along his scalp; her thumb stroking the shell of his right ear, pulling just enough to make him sigh.

The thought of someone else doing this to him made bile rise in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it. Not wanting to dwell on something that they could discuss some other time, when he wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Right now, she just wanted to calm him. The rest, they could figure out later.

“I’m so sorry,” she heard him whisper. His voice much softer and steadier.

He leaned forward, nuzzling his forehead into her belly, and then, with a little hesitance, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her waist. His hands spanning across the width of her lower back; his opened mouth breathing into the fabric of her dress, warming her navel.

She moved her hand down to the nape of his neck, letting the other rest at the crown of his head, and as she held him against her, she closed her eyes. “I know you are,” she told him with a nod. “I know.”

She felt him start to shiver, his body jerking through another silent sob.

“I don’t...” He whimpered, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve this.”

He started to pull away from her, but she wasn’t having any of it.

She was tired of hearing that sentence, and she was tired of knowing just how much he believed it. So, she knelt down in from of him. Her knees pressing into the pavement; her hands shifting to the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. She held him there, firmly but gently, and forced him to look at her, wanting him to see her, and to know that she meant every word that she was about to say.

“Yes, you do.” She told him softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes, watching him stare at her in a dreamlike awe. “I know you, Ben. I know you. And I know that who you have been is not who you really are.” She said as she wiped her thumbs across his cheeks, his jaw, his chin, his lips, collecting every single tear that she could find, before cupping his face again. “You said that I was the best person that you’ve ever known. Well, _you_ are the best person that _I’ve_ ever known. You are. You’re brave, and you’re honest. You’re understanding and gentle. And you have so much to offer, Ben. So much to offer. And the only person that believes that you don’t... is _you_.”

He let out a soft sigh, his eyes releasing another tear that she quickly wiped away. “I don’t know what to do.” He admitted timidly.

“That’s okay,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth lifting into a small smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We?” He choked out a shaking breath.

“Yes, Ben. _We_.” She assured him as her hand brushed across his face, savoring the warmth of his skin, letting it serve as a reminder that he was here, and that he was _alive_. “Now, let’s go back inside. You’re missing Tangled.” She smiled tenderly. “And that’s your daughter’s favorite movie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: This doesn’t mean that they’re back together, or that she is okay with what he did. They still have a few more things to work through.


	9. Can You Stand The Rain?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, chaotic Ani notices something.
> 
> Rey is a vulnerable queen.
> 
> And Ben might be the luckiest man alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I hope you and your families are all safe and healthy!
> 
> So far, this story has been really sad. And in the tags, I promised angst AND fluff. So, for this chapter, I am here to deliver the fluff... with just a touch of angst.
> 
> The song is "Can You Stand The Rain?" by New Edition. And as always, I hope you'll listen to it. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me this far. ❤️🥰

Flowers could only last so long before they wilted and died. Which was why, at least to Rey, timing was everything. It was a lesson that required patience, but also urgency. To be able to know, and admit, when something was too late to be salvaged. Or how to stretch time just enough to give herself more of it. 

But more than that, she understood that something like flowers, or love, had to be nurtured and cared for. They had to be given light and warmth and watered. Not just set aside and trusted to grow on their own. 

Because even though timing was everything, it wasn’t the _only_ thing.

And Rey didn’t believe in doing nothing, or just letting her life be decided by something as fickle as fate, without putting forth the effort to get what she wanted. 

And, yes, sometimes, that effort was in vain. 

Sometimes, things simply didn’t work out. 

But giving up was a guarantee that it wouldn’t. 

And Rey would rather be able to say that she had fought for what she loved, than to _know_ that she didn’t.

\----------

She turned off the stove and came over to the sink, running a hot skillet under the faucet to rinse it out, and then placed it into the basin. She would wash it later. But right now, they were going to have pancakes. Blueberry, to be exact. Because Rey knew, firsthand, that some of the hardest problems were best served over breakfast. At least, then, she’d have the rest of the day to work through them.

And her problem, this morning, was figuring out how to ask Ani what she thought of Ben.

She and Ben had both agreed that they weren’t going to tell Ani that he was her father yet. Choosing, instead, to work up to it and give her time to adjust to him first. 

So, as far as Ani knew, her daddy had gotten _lost_ , and that he hadn’t quite made his way back home yet. But he loved her very, very much, and someday, when she was older, then she would meet him.

But _someday_ had come a lot sooner than Rey thought it would. 

Not that she was upset about that. Because, honestly, having Ben home was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him here. She just wasn’t prepared for him to _be_ here yet. And being a mother had taught her that she always had to have some sort of plan in place, a sort of checklist to adhere to. Otherwise, she would end up with three baskets of dirty laundry and no clean underwear. Or she would come home from the grocery store, only to realize that she had forgotten to buy milk.

Which, ironically, was why her four year old was currently sitting at the kitchen table, her legs tucked beneath her, eating dry cereal out of a plastic bowl. 

“Mommy, how come _Appa Jacks_ are shaped like O’s?” Ani asked mid-chew. Her jaw working in a circle. 

“That’s just how they’re made, sweetie.” Rey said as she brought two plates to the table. She sat the smallest one in front of Ani, knowing good and well that she wouldn’t eat very much of it, if any. “Sometimes, cereal is shaped like O’s. Sometimes, it’s shaped like squares. Kind of like people. We all look different.”

“But Bryan and Toby don’t look different.” Ani frowned in confusion.

“Yes, but Bryan and Toby are also twins.” Rey explained as she took a seat across from her. Their table small enough for her to reach over and cut Ani’s pancake into bite size pieces. 

“What’s a twin?” 

“Well, twins are two babies that are born at the same time.” Rey told her as she poured syrup over their plates. “They grow together in their mommy’s tummy. And sometimes, when they come out, they’ll look the same. Not always. But sometimes.”

“Did I grow in _your_ tummy?” 

“Yes, you grew in my tummy.” Rey nodded with a smile, resisting the urge to laugh. “I kept you safe and helped you grow until you were ready to come out.”

Ani’s eyes widened, glancing down and then up. “How long was I in there?!”

Rey snorted out a chuckle. “Nine whole months.”

“I don’t know how long that is, but it sounds like a while.” Ani declared confidently as she picked up her fork. “Do I have to eat all this?”

“No, you don’t have to eat all of it.” Rey bit her lip, shaking her head. “Just a little bit, please.”

“Okay. But can we go to Uncle Lando’s and get milk sometime?” She asked, trying to voice her destain for dry cereal in the sweetest way possible. “It’s okay that you forgot, Mommy. But I don’t think you’re s’posed to eat cereal without milk.”

Rey curled her lips into a lopsided grin, and then dug into her plate. Slicing off a bite with the side of her fork and then sopping up a line of syrup. But once she shoved it into her mouth and started chewing, her nose scrunched.

_ Obviously, you aren’t supposed to make pancakes without milk either. _

“Yeah, we can go to Uncle Lando’s.” Rey said as she suffered through a swallow. “Do you want me to fix you something else? Some cheesy eggs, maybe?”

Ani shook her head no. Her face scrunched up in a way that told her mother that she wasn’t enjoying it.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it.”

“I - I - I like it, Mommy. You cook really good.” Ani blinked quickly, gulping it down. “But I think I like _Appa Jacks_ more.”

“You know who else likes Apple Jacks?” Rey leaned towards the table, rubbing her finger nervously across the handle of her fork. “Ben.”

“No, Ben likes Cap’n Crunch.” Ani countered with conviction. “He told me.”

_“_ Oh, he did, did he?” Rey raised her brows, hoping to steer this in her favor. “Did you have fun yesterday? Talking to Ben?”

“Yeah, he’s really really fun.” Ani bobbed her head before her eyes blew wide. “And he’s really smart. He showed me how to draw a whole dinosaur!”

“A whole dinosaur, huh?”

“Yeah, with a big, long neck and a long tail like Little Foot!” She added with a proud smile. “Did you know that Ben has seen The _Lamb_ Before Time?”

Rey held in a laugh. Of course, she knew that Ben had seen _The Land Before Time_. She was the one that had made him watch it. “I did know that.” She confirmed with a nod. “Did _you_ know that Ben also likes to watch _Scooby-Doo_?”

“Does he really?!” She leaned up on the table, her legs shifting underneath her so that she could sit a little higher. 

“Yeap. You’ll have to ask him about it when you see him again.” Rey gave her a warm smile, wanting to plant the possibility in her little brain.

It seemed to work, because her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “I’m gonna see him again? But, but, but Ben says that he’s gotta go back to live in California. I heard him tell Poppy that he doesn’t wanna go, but he has to because somebody will _screw_ him. But if Ben is gonna stay with Poppy some more, then maybe he will wanna play with me again.”

Rey’s eyes bulged, “Sue, baby. Someone will _sue_ him.”

“Okay, but do you think Ben would wanna come over?” She asked with raised brows, the wonder on her face causing Rey to melt. “I could show him my room and we could watch movies again!”

“Honey, I don’t...” She gulped nervously. “I don’t know what Ben’s doing today. He could be busy, and we can’t just...”

“We could call him and ask him! I don’t have his number, but Poppy might!”

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Working her jaw like a fish out of water. 

This was not, at all, what she had in mind. A simple conversation? Yes. A subtle assessment? Sure. Maybe even make plans to go get ice cream later this week, or a trip to the park, if the weather was nice. But Ben couldn’t come here. Not today. Not when her house looked like it had been turned upside down, and then shook.

Rey didn’t even want _Rose_ to see her house like this, and certainly not The Dameron’s. But Ben Solo? Not a chance. Not when there were dishes piled up in the sink, or toys strewn all over the floor, or three loads of clothes that had slowly taken over her laundry room, forming their own union. He couldn’t see it in this shape. Otherwise, he might think that she didn’t know how to run her own home, or take care of their child, or use a mop. And she could! She definitely could! But between running her own business and making sure that their tiny human ate, bathed, and slept, Rey didn’t even have time to sit down, let alone keep the house spotless.

Yet, somehow, rather than offering to invite Ben over another day, Rey ended up blurting out, “I have his number!”

She blamed it on her mom brain. The same one that told her to put the milk in the cabinet, instead of the refrigerator. But once it had left her mouth, she couldn’t take it back. And when Ani’s eyes lit up like a string of Christmas lights, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to.

“Oh, let’s _Face_ him! Can we _Face_ him?” 

“Oh, I don’t know about FaceTiming him, sweetheart.” Rey sighed nervously, not even wanting a mirror to see her in her current state. “It’s still early. Ben might not be awake yet.”

“We can wake him up! He has to eat breakfast too. Right, Mommy? Breakfast is important to make us be big and strong. That’s what you said.”

Rey snorted quietly, “That _is_ what I said.” She nodded.

“Then, then, then we should _Face_ him and make sure he’s eating!” Ani declared as she jumped down off of the chair with a _thump_. Her curls bouncing as she ran to the counter; her legs and arms stretching to reach Rey’s phone on the charging dock. “And then we can ask him if he wants to come and play with us too!”

Rey propped her elbow on top of the table, covering her smile with her hand. 

This was _definitely_ not what she had in mind.

“Do you think Ben will wanna watch _Tangled_ with us again? He missed most of it at Poppy’s house. He didn’t even see my favorite part!” She said with wide, disappointed eyes. “When _Finn_ Ryder took Rapunzel to see the floating lights for her _burfday._ Ben didn’t see it, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetie. It’s okay. We can ask him.” Rey brushed her hand across Ani’s forehead, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “But if he’s busy, then we’ll have to do it another day, alright?”

Ani nodded quickly, even though her expression wasn’t as convincing, and then with a smile, she held out the phone and stared up at Rey with this suspicious glint in her eyes. A little sparkle. As if she knew something that Rey didn’t. Which, to be fair, was probably just overconfidence. Something that she had undoubtedly learned from Uncle Poe.

“Okay,” Rey sighed, talking mostly to herself. “Let’s call him.”

“No, we have to _Face_ him!” Ani pleaded as she climbed up into her mother’s lap, well aware that there was a difference between the two. 

One let her see his face. The other did not.

“Alright, alright. We’ll _Face_ him.” 

Rey shifted in her chair, wrapping her free arm around Ani’s waist. Then, she drew in a deep breath, swallowed her nerves, and began flipping through her apps until she found her contact list. Ani was watching her every move, memorizing the steps that it took to find Ben’s name, and what button to push. 

But once they scrolled down to the B’s, and Rey pressed the button, her eyes bulged at the sight of herself on the screen. _Oh, dear God._ She looked like she hadn’t showered in a week. Her hair in wild disarray; her skin drier than the Sahara. She tried to fix as much of it as she could, tucking a few strands behind her ears and scrubbing the maple syrup off the corner of her mouth, and prayed that the phone’s pixelation would hide the rest.

“Is he gonna pick up, Mommy?” Ani blinked after three rings. Her face leaning into the camera until all that could be seen on the screen was her nostrils.

Rey tried to peep around her. “I don’t... I don’t think so, sweetie.”

But right as Rey started to end the call, she heard the ringing turn into a low-toned hum, and then the word _Connecting..._ appeared beneath his name in the top left corner. It was delayed, at first. As if time had stopped. But after a few seconds of staring at a white screen, the camera adjusted the brightness, and there he was. His sunglasses pushed on top of his head, trapping his hair like a headband; his mouth curled into a crooked smile.

He definitely wasn’t in the bed, and Rey could tell by the blurry background that he wasn’t even at Han’s. Which made her feel slightly embarrassed for even calling him, because clearly he already had other plans. 

Ani, however, didn’t seem to care.

“HEY, BEN!” She cried out, waving her hand.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His grin, somehow, deepened. “What are you doing?”

“Eating breakfast with Mommy.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you eating?” He asked as he tried to move away from the background noise. Pushing his finger up to his ear to shove his AirPod even further into the canal. 

“ _Appa Jacks_.” She answered. “But Mommy made pancakes.”

“Are you - are you busy?” Rey leaned around Ani, watching him glance over his shoulder. “We can call back, if you...”

“No! It’s okay! I’m not busy.” He said quickly. “Hux and I just drove down to Rochester. But I think we’re pretty much done. Right, Arm? We done?”

“You’re in Roch-Rochester?” Rey blinked. 

“Mommy, where is _Rod Chester_?”

“It’s several hours away.” She whispered before turning her attention back to her phone. “Ben, we can call back later. It’s fine.”

“No, wait! Don’t - Please, don’t hang up.” He said worriedly, his smile fading. “I’m good. I promise. Did you need something?”

“Well, Ani and I...”

“We want you to come over!” Ani announced a little too loudly, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Sweetie, Ben isn’t in town.” Rey felt her face heat up. “We can play another day, remember?”

“But I’m coming back!” He said anxiously, his gaze jerking over his shoulder again, looking at someone. Mostly likely Hux. “We just had to bring the rental car down here to drop off. But I should be home by this afternoon, if that’s not too late.”

_Home_. Rey’s heart skipped, “How are you getting back home?”

“I, uh... I might’ve bought a car.” He answered, half-smiling through gritted teeth. “Well, technically, it’s an SUV. But still. We should be headed back in about thirty minutes. Will that be - will that be too late?”

“That’s not too late. Is it, Mommy?” Ani peered up at her.

Rey shook her head slowly, “No, that’s not too late.”

“Okay. So, do you want me to come over when I get in? Or call first?” He asked quickly. “I can come straight there, if you want.”

“Um, Ben...” She snorted, finding his excitement to be adorably endearing. “Do you even know where we live?”

“ _Um, Rey_...” Ben leaned into the phone, smirking like the Devil. “I painted that trim behind you. So, yeah, I think I know where you live.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes drifting up the doorframe and around the trim, before turning back at her phone. A warmth spreading like fire through her belly. “I guess you do.” She smiled.

\----------

Galen Erso’s old, two-story townhouse was exactly four miles from where the Solo’s lived. Ben knew that for a fact because he used to run there, on foot, every day, for two straight months, after the transmission in his truck had blown out.

Han would tell him he was crazy for running that far, because he was never allowed to stay very long. An hour, maybe. Two hours, if he was lucky. And then he’d have to run another four miles back home, all because Mr. Erso didn’t like Rey having a boy over after dark. 

And in hindsight, Ben probably _was_ a little crazy. But he didn’t care how long the visit lasted. Or that her grandfather would make them stay in the living room, where he could keep an eye on them. Or that they had to sit at least three feet apart, at all times, so that they could “ _leave enough room for Jesus_.”

All Ben cared about was Rey, and what would make her happy. And if seeing him every day was what she wanted, then he would’ve ran all the way to the Canadian border just to make it happen.

Now, though, if Mr. Erso were still alive, he wouldn’t even allow Ben to stand on the street curb, let alone walk into his house. 

It had been hard enough to get the old man to like him to begin with. But if he knew what Ben had done, then it would’ve only proven what Galen had been convinced of from the start. That Ben Solo was some no-good, hot-headed, Devil-worshiping heathen that just wanted to deflower his granddaughter.

And, to be fair, he hadn’t been entirely wrong. 

Ben _was_ no good. 

He _was_ a hot-heated heathen. 

But, despite what Mr. Erso may have believed, Ben had waited until Rey was eighteen before they, you know, “fornicated.” And, not that it would’ve made a difference, but she wasn’t the only one that had been deflowered that night.

Ben would be lying, though, if he said that it wasn’t surreal, walking up the stone walkway again. Not just because everything looked different, but because he never thought that he would see it again. Or that he would be _allowed_ to see it again. And it felt like such a gift just knowing that he was. Just being able to stare up at Mr. Erso’s sugar maple in the front yard. Or the shrub garden that circled around the base of the house. Or the concrete bird fountain that never had a drop of water in it unless it rained. 

Rey had changed a few things, from what he remembered, but not many. The porch swing was now stained a rich mahogany; the shutters were painted a dark plum. There were flowers in clay pots at the top of the steps and along the railing. Some big. Some little. Some bloomed. Some not. And it was all very homey, very Rey, with a thermometer shaped like a sunflower nailed to one of the columns and a welcome mat in front of the door that read, “ _YAY! You made it!_ ” 

Ben smiled at that, even though he wished that it wouldn’t have taken him this long to do it, and with a hard sigh, he tightened his hand into a fist and brought it up to the door, giving it two, hard knocks before hearing a breathless “ _I’m coming!_ ” call out to him from inside. 

He took a step back, ignoring the sexual innuendo as if his life depended on it, and then blew out a breath through puffed cheeks, waiting for her to, well, come.

“Mommy, I’ll get it!” 

Ben could hear her little feet running through the house, and after a minute, the screen door swung open, hinges creaking, and then she was staring up at him, smiling as wide as her face would allow.

“Ben, you came!”

“Well, of course, I did.” He smirked, reaching up to help her hold the door.

“Mommy’s upstairs trying to hide the laundry.” She announced with a grin, unable to contain her excitement. “Do you wanna come inside and see our house?”

He breathed out a quiet laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

As soon as he agreed, Ani was reaching up and taking his hand - a little gesture that would never cease to amaze him - and then without skipping a beat, she lead him inside as if she were giving him a tour. Completely unaware that he had been there, technically, longer than she had. 

“This is our living room,” Ani squeezed his hand a little tighter, hauling him along behind her. “Mommy worked really hard to clean it because she knew that you were coming. I heard her tell Aunt Rose that she was gonna show you that she could be a good mommy.” Her eyes lifted up to him, wide and curious. “Did she show you, Ben?”

He chewed on his lip to keep from smiling, realizing that, aside from his face, Ani had also inherited his unfiltered honesty. “Yeah, she definitely showed me.”

Not that she had to. 

Because Ben knew, already, that Rey was a wonderful mother. 

And, more than that, he knew that there wasn’t anyone, in this life or the next, that he’d rather have a child with than her. And it made him feel some sort of animalistic pride, like he was some kind of feral Neanderthal, just knowing that he had. That he had done it. That, together, they had created this tiny, little human. This beautiful, little creature with wild, curly hair and a habit of over-sharing. _This_ was their child. And she was perfect. She was the best of both of them. And if it weren’t for the all-consuming belief that he didn’t deserve them, then he would’ve beat his chest and grunted.

He had shaken off the thought by the time Ani lead him into the kitchen, because he knew that he didn’t have the right to be smug. Not about this. Not when all he did was provide a few dominant traits. Yet, once Rey finally caught up to them, her entire diaphragm heaving through a breath, her skin flushed with a layer of sweat, Ben’s urge to beat his chest was, once again, back in full swing.

_Ben love Rey. Ben make baby with Rey. Ben make Rey happy._

He stared at her, his heart in his throat, and watched her smile up at him.

She had spent the last several hours sweeping and mopping the floors, doing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, dusting every piece of furniture that they owned. Ani had put away her toys, or at least the majority of them, but after hand-washing all of the dishes, thanks to a broken dishwasher, and trying to start dinner, Rey was completely spent.

“Hi,” She whispered breathlessly. 

His lips pressed together into a grin, noticing the way her hair was falling out of her bun and sticking to her temples. “Hi.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said as she moved by him, tapping her daughter on the nose. 

“She’s making chicken,” Ani craned her neck to look up at him. “That’s your favorite. Right, Ben?”

Rey flattened her mouth, thankful that her back was to them. 

She was _really_ going to have to start watching what she said in front of her. 

“Yeah, that’s my favorite.” He smirked as his eyes glanced over the counters, seeing all of the things that she had laid out and wondering if she’d want him to help her. “Rey, do you -- do you want me to do anything?”

“No, that’s...”

“Do you wanna peel the potatoes?” Ani answered for her as she ran over to the drawer, pulling it open. If Rey wasn’t going to get the ball rolling, then she was. “We broke the _lectric_ one. Mommy has this blue one now. But you'll have'ta use your hands.”

“Sweetie, Ben doesn’t have to peel the potatoes.” Rey reached down, making sure that Ani didn’t accidentally grab a knife.

“I - I want to.” He stepped forward, taking off his jacket. “I want to help you.”

Rey glanced up, watching him move closer while still keeping a safe distance, noticing the look on his face. There was a sense of sincerity in his eyes, a genuine hankering to be of use, and she wasn’t quite sure if _that_ was what made her stomach flutter, or if it was simply the way that he had said it. His deep-voice coming out in a whisper; his throat rolling through a nervous swallow. Or maybe it was the sentence itself, or the concept behind it. This notion that they were about to do something as ordinary as make dinner, together, after she had spent so much time doing it alone. 

She had help now. He was here. He _wanted_ to be here. 

“Rey?”

And he certainly _was_ here. All six-foot-three of him. Towering over her kitchen counters like some sort of giant poplar. Running a hand through his hair, for no other reason than to just get it out of his eyes. She gaped at the bulk of him, not even realizing that she was doing it, with her gaze trailing over the width of his shoulders, down the expanse of his chest, along the veins in his forearms, the curve of his wrist, and then _those hands._

She wanted to believe that it was her mom brain, again, for the second time today, causing her heart to race, or her insides to feel so soft and warm. And maybe, to a certain degree, it _was_ her mom brain. It would certainly explain why she was suddenly flustered by the thought of him peeling a potato, of all things. But, then again, at the end of the day, Rey the Mother and Rey the Woman were _both_ in love with Ben Solo.So, it didn’t really matter who was steering the ship. She was always going to lean in his direction.

But right when she started to fantasize about what those hands would look like fixing her dishwasher, Ben cleared his throat.

“Rey?” He worried nervously. “Do you not want me to help?”

“What? Yeah. Of course. Yeah, that’s - that’s fine.” She swallowed hard, shooting her arm out a little too quickly as she held out the potato peeler, waiting for him to take it. And then once he did, she brushed her hands down her sides, smoothing out her dress, and then turned towards the stove. Her face flushed. “I’ll just, I’ll do the chicken.”

His brows furrowed, wondering if he had done something wrong. 

He was just trying to be useful. But if she didn’t want him to...

“You have’ta wash them first, Ben.” A little voice called out to him at knee-level, pulling him out of his own head. His gaze dropping down to find Ani staring up at him. “To get the dirt off.”

He smiled softly before arching his brow. “You mean, you don’t like to eat dirt?” He asked with mocked seriousness.

“Ew, no, Ben. That’s gross.”

“Not even a little bit?” He tilted his head before sinking down to scoop her up with one arm. Her high-pitched giggle making him grin even harder. “Just one bite?” 

“Nooooo.” She shook her head with a smile, holding onto him as he toted her across the kitchen. “You’re not s’posed to eat dirt.”

Rey peered over at them, her chin on her shoulder, her throat trying to stifle a laugh, and watched as he used his free hand to grab onto the back of a dining chair, before hauling it over to the sink for Ani to stand on. And then after he positioned it _just right_ and helped her find her balance _,_ he turned on the faucet, sticking his fingers under the stream to check the temperature, and then handed their four year old daughter an Idaho potato. 

It was so endearing, seeing him like this. So open and relaxed. Hanging onto every word that Ani said to him. Soaking in all of her endless expressions. Rey could see a little hesitance, here and there, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was doing this right, but she could all-but _feel_ his love for her. It was so sentimental and obvious. Not just in the way that he grinned each time she said his name, but also in the way that he looked at her. His eyes so full of wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe that she was real, or that she was _theirs._

They fell into a comfortable rhythm once the potatoes were peeled, with Ani sitting on Ben’s shoulders, her arms crossed on top of his head, while Rey helped him dump their “hard work” into a pot of boiling water. Trying to keep it from splashing on them. 

Every so often, Rey would steal glances up at him, her lips never too far from a smile. And when she wasn’t looking at him, Ben was looking at her, noticing the slight flush of her cheeks, or the way she chewed on her lip to keep from grinning. 

But what Rey and Ben _didn’t_ see, was that whenever they were looking at each other, their daughter was looking at _them._ Her little smirk just shy of suspicion, wondering why Mommy was staring at Ben like that. Or why Ben laughed every time Mommy told a joke that wasn’t really that funny. Did he think he was s’posed to? Or was he just trying to be nice?

She didn’t dwell on it for very long. Because once dinner was over, and they were all-but stuffed to the gills, Ani finally got to show Ben her favorite part of _Tangled._ And this time, there was no phone call to interrupt them.

The living room was dark, with the light of the television shining over a gray, L-shaped sectional. Ben was sitting on one end of it, with Ani curled up in his lap, his arm holding her against him. She had the side of her face pressed into his chest, watching the movie through heavy eyes. A yawn shaking out of her every few minutes.

Rey was to the right of them. Her knees bent to her chest. A fleece blanket tucked around her shoulders. Minutes from falling asleep herself. And as those little, orange floating things started rising over whatever kingdom Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder lived in, Ben felt her scoot closer to him. Her hips shifting on the cushions; her breath coming out in a quiet sigh. He wanted to reach over and take her hand, or at least offer his, but he didn’t. Too afraid that he might’ve misread the night. Or that he was wanting something that she wasn’t ready, or willing, to give him again. And if she wasn’t, then he would be happy with this. Just _this._

His daughter in his arms. 

Rey falling asleep by his side. 

A movie that, honestly, wasn’t half bad.

He let out a deep breath, bringing up his free arm and wrapping it around Ani. He could feel her snuggle closer to him, her breathing slowing ever so gently, and then when she whispered his name, he tucked his chin to look at her, to make sure that she was okay, or if she needed something.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He whispered softly.

“Are you gonna go back to California?” She asked him, blinking through the exhaustion.

He traced his fingers along her temples, tucking her curls behind her ear. “For a little while.” He answered, unable to lie to her. “But I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” She frowned up at him.

He leaned down, kissing her forehead and squeezing his eyes shut to keep them from watering, and then he pulled back, nodding quickly. “I promise.” He assured her. “I won’t be gone very long.”

“But you said -- you said you were gone a long time before,” Ani rubbed her fist in her eye, trying to stay awake. 

“I - I know I did,” he gulped, trying to figure out how he could explain this to her in a way that she would understand. “But, you see, I was, um... I was lost.” He said softly. His heart racing. “I got lost, and I didn’t know how to get back home. So, it took me a lot longer than it should have. But I’m not - I’m not lost anymore.”

Ani sat up in a flash, her hand pressed on his chest to keep steady, and then stared at him with a surprised look on her face. Her eyes wide; her mouth open. 

“Y-You’re not? You’re not lost anymore?”

“No, sweetheart.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

A grin spread on her face, her eyes squinting like his always did, and after a deep breath swelled in her chest, followed by a sharp hiccup, she had tears in the corners of her eyes. Big and round. Swelling across her irises. And the second one fell, Ben panicked. Not knowing what he did to upset her, or if those were good tears, or bad tears. Or if he should he wake up Rey.

“Oh, baby, don’t - don’t cry.” He reached up, wiping her cheek. “Please, don’t cry.”

“But if, if you go back to California, you won’t get lost again. Right, Ben?”

“I promise, I won’t get lost,” he answered quickly, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “And if you want, and it’s okay with Mommy, then you can call me every day, just to make sure that I don’t.”

She nodded quickly, her face torn between a smile and a frown, and then with a slight whimper, she fell forward and snuggled into his chest again. Her arms wrapping around as much of him as she could get; her face buried into the front of his shirt. He had his hand across her back, rubbing gentle circles until her breathing started to slow, his other arm tucked under her knees, and after a few more hiccups, she let out a quiet sigh.  Which, he hoped, meant that she believed him.

“I can make sure, Ben.” She sniffed quietly. “Mommy showed me how to _Face_ you on her phone, so I know how to do it now. And I can -- I can..” She let out a tired yawn. “... call you all the time.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, pressing his mouth into the top of her head, holding her close to him. “You promise?”

He felt her nod, “I promise.”

Exhaustion beat her after that. And Ben would’ve sat there for the rest of the night, just cradling her while she slept, but after about twenty minutes of staring at the Disney+ home screen, he felt Rey stir beside him. His head shooting over to watch her slowly sit up. She seemed surprised that she had fallen asleep, and her first thought was to check for Ani, finding her conked out on Ben’s chest.

“How long was I asleep?” She asked him hoarsely, glancing at the TV.

“Not very long,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“Do you want me to take her to bed?” 

“No, I - I can do it. If that’s okay.” He swallowed, pressing his lips together.

“Sure,” she said with a sleepy smile. “Her bed is upstairs in my old room.”

Ben nodded as he stood up from the couch, shifting Ani’s head to his shoulder, and then waited for Rey to lead him through the living room, then up the staircase and down the hall. She turned on a nightlight once they were inside and pulled back a PAW Patrol-themed comforter, before stepping aside and letting Ben put Ani down on the mattress. He had to squat down, positioning her in a way that he hoped would be comfortable, and then he tucked her in. Smoothing his hand across her covered shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered. His head turning just enough to look up at Rey. “...for letting me do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

He half-smiled before glancing back at Ani. “Yes, I do.” 

He kissed her temple, brushing his fingers through her hair one more time, before standing up and following Rey back out into the hallway. Leaving the door cracked open with the nightlight on. 

He didn’t want to leave, or for the night to end, but he also didn’t want to stay beyond his welcome, and he knew that Rey was tired. So, as he followed her back down the stairs and into the living room, he reached into his pocket, digging for his keys.

“I had a good,”

“You don’t,” she said at the same time, feeling her face heat up. “You don’t have to leave yet.”

“What?” 

“I mean, if...” She swallowed hard. “If you need to go, then that’s okay. I was just... I, um...” She glanced around the room, crossing her arms over her chest, before looking back up at him. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded.

He took his hands out of his pocket, leaving his keys where they were, and watched as she made her way over to a lamp, turning it on. Was he supposed to sit? Should he stand? She looked like she didn’t know what to do either, and he was even more confused when she plugged her phone into an audio dock. Turning on some sort of 80s playlist. The music cutting through the awkward silence. Were they talking? Or listening to Cher? Not that he minded. He was fine with either.

** “ _If I could turn back time_ , _if I could find a way_...” **

Rey fumbled the phone, skipping the song and turning the volume down to keep from waking Ani. Then, when he came over to stand beside her, his head tilted, he noticed that her hands were shaking. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah! I’m fine. I just...” Her eyes shooting up to him worriedly. “Do you not want me to play something?”

“No, it’s... It’s fine.” He blinked, trying to understand what he did to make her so nervous. “I, um... I like the 80s.”

“I just, I thought music would make you more comfortable.” She admitted, half-smiling. “You used to always have it playing, all the time, and I...”

“You think I’m not comfortable?”

“No, I.. Well...” She swallowed. “Are you?”

He tilted his head, knitting his brows. “Are _you_?”

She inhaled sharply, placing her phone on the end table, and as _Can You Stand the Rain_ by New Edition started playing through the speakers, she walked over to the couch and sat down. Pulling her knees up to her chest and watching as he stood across the room. Unmoving.

** “ _On a perfect day, I know that I can count on you."_ **

“Rey, did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “Not at all. I just... I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been thinking, about what you said at Han’s."

He cleared his throat and walked over to the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he sat down. Leaving an empty cushion between them as if her grandfather was still standing over his shoulders.

“Which part?” He asked in a whisper, biting his lip.

“All of it,” she told him, watching his throat bob. “And I just have one question. Just one. And if you don’t want to answer it, then that’s okay. I just...”

** “Sunny days, everybody loves them. **

** Tell me, baby, can you stand the rain?” **

He cocked his head to the side, watching her. 

“I just need to know,” she gulped. “... if you have someone else. Someone back in LA. A girlfriend, or...”

“No.” He answered quickly. His voice gentle, but serious.

“No?”

“Rey,” he stared at her, his expression softening. “It’s only ever been you.”

She glanced down at her knees, knitting her brows. “No, it hasn't.”

“I didn’t mean,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then, how do you mean it?”

“I don’t want to do this again,” he said in a pleading whisper. “I didn’t love them, Rey. I didn’t even come close to it.”

“But you were still with them,” she frowned.

“Yes,” he nodded. “But I didn’t love them.” His shoulders shrugged sadly. “The only girl that I’ve ever loved... is you. And I’m never going to forgive myself for losing you, but I mean it. It’s only ever been you.”

" ** _Love unconditional, I'm not asking this of you._**

 ** _Girl, to make it last, I'll do whatever needs to be done._** "

“You’re not just - you’re not just saying that?” She trembled, her eyes watering. 

“You _know_ that I’m not just saying that,” he said in a soft whisper. "You do. You know."

She nodded, licking the tears off of her lips. “I don’t, um... I don’t have anyone else either.” She said softly. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

“Rey, you...”

“Just, listen to me...” She wiped her eyes, wanting to tell him this while she still had the chance. “The thought never even crossed my mind. Which is, which is why it’s hard for me to know that you were with someone else.” She admitted. Her voice breaking. “And I know that you made a mistake. I do, I know that you did. But I can’t forgive you. Not right now.”

His lips parted. His heart racing.

** “ _When it's tough, she won't run._ **

** _She will always be right there for me."_ **

“But I want to,” she whispered, choking through a sob. “I just need time, Ben. And I’m - and I’m afraid that I don’t have time. Because you’re going to leave on Friday. You’re going to leave again. And I’m afraid that if you go, then I might lose you for good this time. And I don’t, I don’t want that.”

“Rey,” his body jerked towards her, on instinct, nearly closing the distance. And he wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to. But he stopped himself. Too afraid that he might be misinterpreting what she was telling him. “You’re not - you’re not going to lose me.”

“But I’m afraid if I take too long, then...”

“Too long? Rey, no... I’m, I’m the one that took too long.” He frowned. “But if you want to me stay, then I’ll stay. I won’t go to New York. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want the same thing that I’ve always wanted, Ben!” She whimpered. “ _You_.”

He stared at her, his face falling in a stunned awe.

**_ “Storms will come. _ **

**_ I know, I know all the days won’t be perfect. _ **

**_ But tell me, can you stand the rain?” _ **

“I just want _you_ ,” she sniffed, feeling her lip quiver. “But I need time. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t just forgive you. Because I want to. I really, really want to. But I'm just so...”

“Don't,” he shook his head quickly. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry about anything.” 

“But I _am.”_ She cried. “I _am_ sorry. Because I love you. I do. I love you so much, and I don’t want to waste another second when I could just _be with you._ But I can’t yet, Ben. I'm not ready, and I'm sorry that I'm not. I'm so sorry.”

_Fuck it._

He was across the couch before he had time to talk himself out of it. 

His arms sliding behind her back, hauling her into his chest; his face burrowing into her shoulder. She let out a shuddering cry, quickly wrapping her body around his, and then let him pull her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing. Her fingers clinging to the back of his shirt; her forehead pressed into the side of his neck.

** “ _No pressure, no pressure, from me baby._ **

** _Cause I want you._ **

** _And I need you._ **

**_And I love you._ ” **

“It’s okay,” he breathed gently, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “If you need time, then it’s yours. Take all the time you need.”

“Just, promise me, that if you have to leave, then you'll come back.” She pulled away, staring down at him with pleading eyes. Her hands cupping the sides of his face. “Promise me, that you won't walk away, just because I'm not ready yet.” 

He reached up, brushing his thumb across her cheek, wondering how she thought that he ever could. Not when he knew, now, that she still loved him. That he was even still worth loving.

“I promise, I'll come back.” He assured her. “And if you're not ready, Rey, that's okay. Or if you decide that you don't want to be with me, or you can't forgive me, then that's okay too. I promise. It's okay. Just knowing that you still love me is enough."

She choked out a relieved sigh, sniffing as her thumbs stroked the lines of his dimples, "I'm sorry if I ruined the night." She grinned nervously, trying to be funny.

"Ruined the night?" He laughed, turning his head to kiss her palm. "You _made_ my night."

** _“Can you stand the rain?”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caaaaan youuuu staaand the raaaain?


	10. Brown Eyed Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Rose have a chat.
> 
> Ben is determined to be a good dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I hope you're all continuing to take care of yourselves and others. 
> 
> I'm continuing the fluff streak, because we all need a little wholesomeness right now. So, I hope this can give you the feel goods.
> 
> The song is "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison.

Rose was sitting on top of the counter in the back room of the flower shop, licking donut glaze off of her fingers, while Rey put together a large centerpiece for Lando to give to Jannah for her birthday.

Rey had come up with the design herself, with sunflowers and red roses amidst a dome of greenery and baby’s breath, adding a few twigs here and there just to give it a little something extra.

And even though Rose didn’t know _jackshit_ about flowers, or how to arrange them, she did know how to appreciate them. And this was truly _something_.

“You’re a real artist, you know that?” She stared, blinking.

Rey glanced over her shoulder, a smile on her face. “Thank you.”

“No, Rey, I’m serious! I mean, yeah, I always knew that you could do this. But actually watching you do it is just... Wow.”

“Rose, you’re here at least once a week,” Rey chuckled, albeit awkwardly. “You’ve seen me do this before.”

“Confession time,” Rose clapped her hands together. “I don’t always pay attention.”

Rey arched her brow, walking over to steal her second donut from the box. Her fingers stained green. “You know, I’d probably be offended if you didn’t bring me donuts.”

“Yeah, nothing like plain glaze to smooth over an argument,” she quipped back, digging the sugar out from under her thumbnail with her teeth. “Besides, go easy on me. I’m sensitive right now.”

“Why?” Rey asked, genuinely worried. Her brows knitted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, something happened!” She answered with a frown. “I deleted Tinder.”

Rey let out a low groan, lifting her head to the ceiling and rolling her eyes so hard that it made her forehead hurt. “Rose, I thought something was actually wrong.” She sighed. “Don’t do that.”

“You don’t understand! I deleted my whole account, Rey. I didn’t just hold down on the app until it wiggled. I literally deleted everything. It’s gone.”

“Wow. Who _are_ you? And what have you done with Rose?” She smirked playfully, holding a donut a few inches away from her mouth before taking a bite.

“I know. It must come as a shock. Especially considering how my yearlong social experiment was just so... _What’s the word I’m looking for_?” She twisted her face in thought. “Efficacious? Providential?”

“Disappointing?” Rey cut her eyes around, smirking mid-chew.

“Says the girl that refused to give it a try.” She shot back. “Even after her _Tinder-hearted_ best friend told her just how _orgasmic_ it could be.”

Rey huffed, shoving the rest of the donut into her mouth. “I’m perfectly capable of giving myself an orgasm. Thank you very much.” She said through puffed cheeks.

“Listen, I grew up on Beyoncé, Kelly, and Michelle just like you did. So, believe me, I stan an independent woman.” Rose shrugged. “But sometimes you need a little sausage in your omelette, if you know what I’m saying.”

Rey barked out a laugh, nearly choking. Her hand flying up to her mouth. “I appreciate the concern for my, um, omelette. But I have it covered.”

“Once or twice a month is not _having it covered_.” Rose shook her head. “That’s a tease. And, before you even say it,” She threw up her hand. “My niece is an angel. Not a cockblock. So, keep that mom card in your pocket, honey.”

Rey didn’t want to roll her eyes again, too afraid that they might get stuck that way, and she had to get this centerpiece done by three o’clock. So, instead, she ignored her and went back to work.

“Anyway,” Rose checked her phone. “I deleted Tinder.”

“I’m really proud of you. But, who’s the guy?” Rey asked as she picked up a sunflower. “Or is it a girl?”

Rose pretended to be offended. “Who said anything about either?”

“Please. There are only two reasons why you would delete Tinder,” Rey said without turning around. “Either your Mom found out that you had an account, or you’ve met someone. So, which is it?”

“I _might’ve_ met someone.” Rose pursed her lips, frowning.

Rey snorted, “On Tinder?”

“I’ll have you know, I met him at the hospital.” She quickly countered.

“Oh, is he a doctor?”

Rose let out a high-pitched guffaw, then quickly tried to settle herself.“No.” She cleared her throat. “He’s definitely not. No medical experience, whatsoever.”

Rey pivoted just enough to see her face, sensing that something was amiss. “Is he from here?”

“He’s, well, He’s, uh... He’s technically from here. Yeah. Grew up here. Graduated and, well, you know.”

Rey stared at her. Left brow arching. “Do I know him?”

“Well, I mean, it’s a small town. So...”

Rey crossed her arms over her chest. “Rose.” She said flatly.

“Look, it’s not a thing yet. It’s just the start of a thing. The beginning stages of a thing. A trial period, if you will.” She defended energetically, her arms flailing around. “Plus, it probably won’t last because I don’t do long distance.”

“Long distance, huh?” Rey eyed her suspiciously. “How long is this distance?”

“A few states,” she answered in a very nonchalant tone. “A whole country. I don’t know.”

Rey shifted her feet, trying not to smile, and tapped her index finger on her upper arm, “Rose, what color is his hair?”

“What is this _Guess Who_?” She said a little too quickly, her voice rising a few octaves higher than normal.

“Would you say that it’s, _I don’t know_ , a little gingery?” Rey pressed her lips together. “Or is the term strawberry blonde?”

“Again, the relevance.”

Rey finally smirked, blowing out a quiet laugh. “All right, then. Keep your secrets.” She told her with a wink before shifting her focus back to the centerpiece.

“Wait a minute.” Rose leaned forward. “Did you just - did you just quote _Lord of the Rings_?”

“Maybe,” she said as she clipped off the end of a stem, placing the scissors back down on the counter. “But, for the record, if you _were_ , hypothetically, in the pre-stages of dating Armie Hux, then you don’t have to hide it from me. I actually happen to like him.”

“Oh wow. You are _good_. Like, real good.” She hummed. Her expression visibly impressed. “How did you even guess that?”

“Well, first of all, it’s not much of a guess. There’s only two people from Chandy that you’ve ever wanted to date. The first was Finn, in eighth grade, before he came out. The other was Armie Hux, who just so happens to be back in town” Rey shrugged her shoulders, before glancing back at her, smiling. “Some of us _do_ pay attention.”

“Very funny,” Rose pressed her tongue on the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning, before making an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Speaking of Finn, did he ever text you back?”

“This conversation isn’t over. But no, he hasn’t. I’m going to call him later tonight.”

“He’s that mad, huh?”

“I don’t think he’s _mad_ ,” Rey said thoughtfully, shaking her head. “I think he’s just worried. Which is fine. I get it. He’s trying to look out for me, and I love him. But what else was I supposed to do? It was six o’clock in the morning and I had a four year old screaming that she wanted to go stay with Ben.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t screaming _Finn_?”

Rey darted her eyes around, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Bad joke. I’m sorry.” Rose held up her hands in mock surrender. “But, I mean, in Finn’s defense, he always watches Ani on his days off. And, even if he didn’t, is it _really_ a good idea for Ben Solo to be babysitting?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” She said with a shrug.

“Well, first of all, he doesn’t know anything about children.” She answered as if it should’ve been obvious. “And, second, he’s not exactly known for being reliable.”

“He was reliable this morning.” Rey defended quickly. “And it’s not like I just dropped her off and then wished him luck. Han’s there with them. So, he has help. Besides, it’s not _babysitting_ when it’s his child, Rose. You wouldn’t say that I babysit Ani, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, _nooo_ , but...” Rose pouted. Her brows pinched. “It’s just - It’s hard for me to imagine Ben Solo taking care of _anything_ , let alone a kid.” She admitted. “How does that even work? What does he do with her? Make her restring his guitar?”

Rey coughed out a laugh before she could stop it. The sound echoing through the back room. “Well, as of 8:37 this morning, they were eating cereal on the couch. But, by now, who knows?”

“And you’re just... okay with it?” Rose tucked her chin, staring at her. “With him spending time with her... without _you_.”

“Yes, Rose. I’m okay with him spending time with her... without me.” She answered with a calm nod.

“It’s been two days, Rey.”

“Technically, three.” She corrected as she inspected a rose petal, and then placed it into the arrangement.

“How are you so casual about this?” Rose blinked. “I mean, I’m not judging. And I get that you and Ben have this... _thing_. But letting Ani stay with him _this soon_? Are you _really_ okay with that?”

Rey dropped her arms to her side, exhaling a hard sigh.

She had already had this conversation once today, with not one, but _two_ Dameron’s, and she wasn’t quite sure if she had the energy to withstand a third round. Not after spending twenty minutes listening to Finn rant about how she needed to make better choices. Or having Poe pressure her into asking Ben for four years worth of child support payments. Because he, quote, _has a Grammy and can afford it._

And Rey was trying, really hard, to be patient with them. To listen and respect whatever they had to say. Not just because they were her friends, but because, at the end of the day, they had been there for her when Ben wasn’t. They had stood by her, supported her, loved her. And even if she didn’t always agree with them, or even if they, sometimes, left her feeling exhausted and defeated and at her wits’ end, she still cared about what they thought. It mattered to her.

But she could only take so much.

“She had a complete meltdown, Rose.” Rey turned around, sighing softly. “She woke up wanting to know where Ben was, because she thought that he had stayed the night with us. And when she realized that he hadn’t, she started screaming. And I mean _screaming._ I thought she was going to make herself sick. And that’s not like Ani. I rarely _ever_ have trouble getting her ready in the morning. Which, by the way, is a blessing that I’ve been taking for granted.” She stated with an almost-comical frown. “Because after trying to wrestle her out of her pajamas and into her clothes, I was ready to scream with her.”

“Was it _that_ bad?” Rose tilted her head.

“You have no idea,” Rey said seriously, eyeing her.

“I just, I don’t understand how she’s so attached to him already? I mean, she barely knows him, and yet she wakes up _screaming_ for him? I don’t get it. How does that even happen?”

“I really don’t know,” she answered with a shrug. “I want to think that she was just having a bad morning. But I swear to you, Rose, the second Ben answered his phone, she stopped crying. It was _that_ quick. And, honestly, it worries me. Because he’s leaving in _two_ days. _Two_ days.”

“I thought he was leaving Friday?”

“He has to _be there_ Friday. But he’s heading out on Thursday afternoon,” she answered, swallowing. “And Ani _knows_ that. She knows that he has to go. But I’m not sure if she realizes that he won’t be back for awhile. Or that she won’t be able to see him or talk to him every day. And that’s what worries me. Because what if this happens again? I can’t be calling him at all hours of the night just keep her from having a meltdown.”

“Has he said anything about how he plans to stay in contact? Or has he given you a time frame for when he might be back?” She asked pensively. “Because if you guys are going to do this, if he’s going to be a part of Ani’s life, or _your_ life, then there has to be some sort of consistency, you know? He can’t just show up whenever he wants to. He has to be all-in.”

Rey froze, staring over at her. Her face falling slack; her lips slightly parted. Wondering if she had heard her correctly. Or if it was just wishful thinking. Because it _sounded_ like Rose had come to terms with Ben being around. Which probably shouldn’t have been shocking, since this was Rose, and swimming _with_ the stream, rather than against it, was sort of her _thing._ But, even still, Rey couldn’t help but be taken back by it.

“He - He’s all-in.” She stammered nervously. “He wants to be here.”

“And?” Rose rested her hands in her lap, locking her fingers together.

“And what?” Rey blinked.

“And... how do you feel about that?” She asked curiously, cocking her head.

“Well, I’m, I mean, I’m happy.” She began with a hint of worry in her voice, searching Rose’s face for a reaction. “I’m really glad that he’s home, and that he’s excited about being a father.” Rey admitting, hugging herself. “I never knew mine, and I’d give anything to have been able to. And it, and it makes me so _happy_ to know that Ani isn’t going to miss out on what I did. She’s not going to have to wonder if her father loves her, or if he’s proud of her, or if he, if he cares about what she thinks, or wants, or believes in. Because he does. Ben cares about all of that.” She said with a growing smile. Her eyes starting to water. The words coming out a little easier the more she spoke. “And I know it may seem like I’m moving too fast. Or that I’m brushing off everything that he’s done. When I’m not. I’m not doing that at all. I just... I love him. And I want him to be here. I want him back. And if that makes me naive, or if that makes me...”

“Rey,” Rose leaned forward, arching her brow. “I’m not The Dameron’s. I’m not going to judge you for still loving him.” She shook her head. “I always knew that you did anyway.”

“You - you did?”

“Of course,” Rose snorted, smirking. “I’m not an idiot.”

“So, you _do_ pay attention.” Rey half-smiled, drying the tears off her face.

“On occasion,” she shrugged. “But, in all seriousness, I’m here for you, and I support you, because I love you and I want you to be happy. And if Ben makes you happy, then I just hope, for his sake, that he knows what he has this time around. Because if he hurts you again, then I swear to God, Rey, I will kill him.” She said without blinking. “I will personally fly to LA and set his ass on fire.”

Rey grinned from ear to ear, her relief almost tangible. “I love you too. And I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think setting the father of my child on fire will be necessary. Ben and I have an understanding.” 

“Oh, really? And what exactly does this _understanding_ entail?”

“Pretty much what it sounds like. We both love each other, but I need time and he understands that. So, we’re just going to take it slow for now. Focus on Ani.”

“How slow are we talking?” Rose frowned, looking strangely suspicious. “And are there rules to this understanding? Because your omelette is in _serious_ need of some TLC.”

“Jesus, Rose.” Rey rolled her eyes, not caring if they got stuck. “Will you, please, stop referring to my vagina as an omelette?”

“No, I will not.” She smiled, straightening her spine. Holding her head high. “Now, answer the question. Are you going to ride that dick into the mattress, or are you going to let him ride _you_ into the mattress? Either one is acceptable.”

“That was, that was not your question.” Rey stared at her, wide-eyed and gulping. Her cheeks flaming with a tinge of pink.

“Are you seriously going look me, your best friend, in the eyes, and tell me that you haven’t at least thought about it?” Rose tucked her chin. “I’m talking hot, angry, hate sex. The kind where it’s hard to walk the next morning, but in a good way.”

“Oh my God.”

“Interesting choice of words,” she pointed her finger.

“I don’t, I don’t _hate_ Ben.”

Rose grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “But you _have_ thought about it?”

“No, I... Well, I mean...”

“That’s what I thought.” Rose chuckled as she reached for her second donut, holding it up and peeping at Rey through the hole in the center. “Let me give you a little piece of medical advice, free of charge.” She began as if she were leading some sort of seminar. “Sexual health, as we all know, is essential to our well-being. Not only does it reduce the risk of heart disease, it also lowers your blood pressure, strengthens your immune system, and it helps burn calories. Like this donut for example. Having frequent, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex means you can eat as many of these as you like. Possibly at the same time, depending on your kink.”

“For the love of God, Rose.” Rey buried her face in her hands.

“What? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She pressed on. “You’re a healthy, twenty-four year old woman with needs and desires, just like everyone else. So, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get laid. Especially when it’s, you know, been awhile.”

“Wow! Okay. Thank you... Dr. Tico.” Rey brushed her fingers across her cheeks, feeling how hot they were. “For reminding me that it’s been awhile.”

“Anytime,” she smiled as she took a bite. 

\----------

It had been awhile. Actually, it had been longer than awhile. But, fortunately for Ben, braiding hair was kind of like riding a bike. The know-how never really went away. It was just sitting, in the back of his mind, waiting to be used again. However, simply knowing how to do something didn’t necessarily mean that Ben was _good_ at it. And he knew, wholeheartedly, that he wasn’t good at braiding hair. He had never been good at it. Not even back then, whenever he used to braid Rey’s hair before all of her volleyball games.

But even though his craft could use some work, he knew, for a fucking _fact_ , that he could still do a better job than some of those other bullshit dads.

“Are you almost done, Ben? We’re gonna be late.”

“Yeah, kiddo.” He hummed. His back hunkered over; his eyes honed in with laser sharp focus, because _fuck that YouTube tutorial_. “Almost there.”

In his defense, Rapunzel had a bunch of little kids doing her braid, and there was always strength in numbers. And also, for the record, whoever decided to make these flower-shaped hair things _so fucking small_ could blow him. The whole manufacturing company. Starting with the CEO.

He had snapped five of those little, plastic bastards in half, just by squeezing too hard, and now they were scattered across the coffee table, because he didn’t want Ani to accidentally step on one of the shards.

Luckily, though, Amazon had a twenty-four piece set for, like, eight bucks. So, at least whenever he had to tell Rey that he had strong-armed a hair claw, he could immediately assure her that he still had everything under control. Even if “under control” meant that he had ordered ninety-six more of those damn things.

_Dad of the Year, here I fucking come._

“All set,” he leaned back, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

“Do I look like a princess now?” Ani stood up, turning around to face him, with her arms spread out like a scarecrow.

She was wearing a pale-purple dress with a puffy, tulle skirt and some kind of gold cross-stitching down the front, and he might’ve been a little biased, but she certainly looked like royalty to him.

“Your Majesty,” Ben dropped to one knee, his arm resting on his thigh, his Batman cape from Halloween 2012 draped over his shoulders. “It would be an honor if I could accompany you to tea.”

“Rise, Dark Knight!” She waved her hand. “You can come with me.”

“You are too kind, Your Majesty.” He nodded, fully committed to the role.

Once he managed to get up from the floor, he lead her through the living room and into the kitchen, finding Han leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee at his mouth, hiding his smirk. Ben shot him a warning look, one that probably would’ve been intimidating if his hair wasn’t in a half-up, half-down bun, and then he continued on towards the back door. Sliding it open for her.

“Hi, Poppy.” Ani threw up her hand as she passed by him.

“Your Majesty,” Han bobbed his head.

It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a four year old in possession of a vivid imagination, must be in want of a tea party.

And with this being Ben’s first one, he had pulled out all of the stops.

They had Han’s foldable, poker table set up in the backyard, covered by one of Leia’s white, lace tablecloths, with a plastic tea set, a vase of flowers, a stack of napkins, and four, wooden Adirondack chairs. One for Ben. One for Ani. One for Elsa. And another one for Mr. Bear. And since nothing in the Solo family was ever half-assed, they had actual tea too with a tin of butter cookies, a bowl of multi-colored M&Ms, a plate of chicken nuggets.

“After you, Your Majesty.” Ben pulled out one of the chairs, helping her into the seat, before lifting the entire thing off the ground, with her on it, and moving it closer to the table.

She stared around at the set-up, a wide grin on her face, and then tried to reach towards the pyramid of nuggets, stretching as far as she could. Ben noticed her struggling and pushed the rim of the plate across the table, sliding it closer to her, and then he sat down in a chair that was clearly not meant for a poker table.

“Are these from McDonald’s?” Ani peered over at him in surprise.

“They are,” he nodded, smiling.

He had sent Han on a nugget run earlier after Rey told him that those were her favorite.

“Do you like McDonald’s too, Ben?”

“I, uh... Yeah, sure, I like McDonald’s.” He said as he tried to figure out how to keep the lid on the teapot while he filled their cups.

“You don’t have to pour any for Elsa and Mr. Bear,” she told him seriously. “Me and Mommy always make them drink invisible tea.”

“Invisible tea. Got it.”

“Do you want some tea, Mr. Bear? _Yes, I do._ ” She deepened her voice, furrowing her brows, before bringing the mug up to his snout and making a slurping noise. “He says you make really good tea, Ben.” She added with a half-eaten nugget in her hand.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Bear.” He glanced over at a light-brown teddy with a missing eye, before looking back at Ani. “Do you, uh... Do you think Elsa wants some?”

“Did you ask her?” Ani blinked.

“I, uh... Right...” He swallowed before turning to his left, “Ma’am, do you want some invisible tea?”

“ _Yeap_.” Ani chirped. Her eyes all squinty.

He couldn’t help but grin, listening to her giggle as she chewed, and then, with a shake of his head, feeling absolutely ridiculous, he picked up an empty mug and brought it over to the doll’s face, tilting it and making a slightly deeper slurping sound of his own, causing Ani to laugh even harder.

Ben quickly looked over at her, not just wanting to _hear_ her laugh, but to actually _see_ it, to snap it into his memory like a picture. Because even with her hair twisted into a frizzy braid and chicken nugget crumbs stuck to the corner of her mouth, she was still his little girl, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life fighting to keep her _just_ like this. Happy and healthy and laughing. She didn’t know, yet, how cruel the world could be, or how much harder life was going to get, or that things like heartbreak and death and loneliness were hurdles that she would inevitably have to cross. And Ben knew, in that fraction of a second, with the sun pouring through the tree leaves, casting shadows across her face, that he was going to do everything that he could to delay it. To keep her blissfully unaware for as long as time would let him.

“Ben?”

He blinked, realizing that he had been staring at her. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you want a nugget?” She asked sweetly as her little arm stretched across the table, holding one out to him.

“I would _love_ a nugget,” he snorted as he took it from her, then shoved the whole thing into his mouth. “Thank you.” He mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” she beamed, her jaw working through a bite.

She wiggled in her seat, straightening her spine and glancing across the table, inspecting what else they had. Ben was watching her closely, studying her every reaction, wondering what she was thinking, or if she was having fun, or if there was something that she needed. He already knew that her mind was a wonder, in itself, always passing from one thought to the next, like a rock skipping across a lake, but he wanted to know every little thing that was going on in there. Because if she had a question, then he wanted to answer it. If she needed something, then he would get it. All she had to do was name it, and it was hers.

“Ben, how come nuggets taste so good?” She furrowed her brows, looking up at him curiously.

 _So, that’s what’s going on in there._ He grinned, “I don’t know. They just do.”

“They just do,” she nodded, seemingly satisfied with that.

 _“_ What else tastes good to you?” He tilted his head, eagerly waiting for an answer. “Besides, cereal and potatoes, obviously.”

“I like grape juice.” She perked up, her eyes wide. “And, and ice cream. But I don’t like the yellow kind.”

“The yellow kind?” He blinked, “You mean, vanilla?”

“No, I like vanilla! It’s, um... It’s the one that Poppy likes.”

Ben’s face scrunched, grimacing. “Lemon.”

“Yeah, I don’t like that one.” She shook her head. “It tastes _really_ bad. My favorite is vanilla with sprinkles. Mommy buys it, sometimes, from Uncle Lando but we have to put the sprinkles on it ourselves.”

 _Uncle Lando_. Ben snorted, “Do you like Uncle Lando?”

“I _love_ Uncle Lando.” She stared at him, wide-eyed. Her face shifting into a grin. “He has a whole pool inside his house! A really big one with a slide and everything. Mommy takes me over there a lot because she says I need to learn how to swim and Uncle Lando likes having me around. He says I keep him young. I don’t know what that s’posed to mean, because Uncle Lando is pretty old, but if it makes him happy, then I guess it’s okay.” She shrugged.

“Have you, um... Have you ever been to Uncle Chewie’s?” Ben asked her curiously, watching her eyes light up.

“Uncle Chewie has lotsa sheep!” She said in excitement. “And, and chickens! Mommy takes me to his house, sometimes, but we haven’t been in awhile. Last time, I broke my arm.”

“You - you broke your arm?” He gaped at her. His mouth falling open. “H-how?”

“I fell off a tire swing.” She said casually, as if it was no big thing. “Mommy cried a lot, but I was okay. The lady at the hospital made me a pink cast and I got to draw on it!”

Ben crossed his arms over the table, chewing on his bottom lip and letting the irony wash over him. Oh, she was definitely his kid. Hands down. “You wanna know a secret?” He said quietly, causing her to quickly nod. “I broke my arm at Uncle Chewie’s too.”

“You did?!”

“Yeap,” he nodded, smiling softly. “I fell out of a tree when I was nine.”

“Why were you in a tree, Ben?” She knitted her brows, visibly confused.

“A, uh... A friend of mine dared me to climb it.” He raked his tongue over his teeth, leaving out the fact that said friend had conveniently been Uncle Poe. “One of the branches broke and when I hit the ground, I landed on my arm.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing her the raised scar on his inner forearm. “It’s harder to see it now, because of my tattoos, but I had to have surgery to reset it.”

“Did it hurt a lot?”

“A little bit, at first. But I learned a lesson from it.” He pulled the sleeve back down. “I’m too big to climb a tree.”

“Mommy says you _are_ a tree.” She told him without hesitating.

He choked through a laugh, trying to hold it in. “Let me guess, you heard her tell that to Aunt Rose?”

“Yeah,” She nodded seriously. “But, um, Ben… if you’re a tree, then am I a tree too?”

He brought his hand up to his mouth, hiding his smile. “No, sweetheart. You’re, uh... You’re more of a sapling.”

“What’s a sapling?” She cocked her head to the side, frowning.

“It’s a little tree. Like a, like a baby tree.” He tried to explain.

She pinched her brows thoughtfully. “Is Mommy a tree?” 

“Well,” He glanced down at the table, picking up the teapot to pour himself another cup. “Mommy is… Mommy is more of a flower. Because she’s, she’s really pretty, you know? And, and she's soft and she smells really nice.”

“Am I pretty too?” Ani blinked.

“What? Yes. Of course, you are.” He stammered, his jaw twisting as he tried to find the right words. His gaze focused on pouring the tea. “You and Mommy are the prettiest girls that I know.”

“Are you gonna tell Mommy that?” She stared at him suspiciously, a smirk on her mouth.

Ben shot his eyes up to her, “Well, I, uh… I - I can… Do you - do you want me to tell Mommy that? Should I tell Mommy that?”

“I think so,” she nodded in a full-blown grin before stretching her neck to peer over his shoulder. “MOMMY, BEN HAS SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!” She cried out loudly.

Ben jerked his head around, turning in his seat, as Rey walked out onto the back patio. Her hand over her brows to keep the sun out of her eyes; her smile on the verge of a laugh. His chest heaved through a breath, watching her ease down the steps, her dress swishing across her knees.

She was early. Not that he minded. But she was early, and she was coming towards them, and he had only put out four chairs. And when he started to stand up to offer her his, his knees bumped the edge of the table and the whole thing began to tilt over.

He scrambled to catch it, but between saving the plastic tea set and making sure Ani’s nuggets didn’t hit the ground, he lost his grip on the teapot and the entire contents spilled onto his lap, soaking the front of his pants. It took all of his strength to keep from cursing, and as he reached for the stack of napkins to sop up the mess, Rey beat him to it. Her eyes wide with worry; her brain in full mom mode.

“Oh my God, Ben.” She drew in a sharp breath. “That wasn’t hot, was it? Is it hot? Are you hurt?”

Her hands were kneading the napkins like a dough, pressing them up his inner thigh, dabbing and patting like a chef in a pizza parlor.

“N-no,” Ben shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm f-fine."

She looked up at him, working her way a little too far north. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded quickly as he reached down, covering his hand over hers. “You have to, you have to stop... doing that.”

Rey dropped her gaze to his lap, her eyes bulging, and then quickly pulled back and stood to her feet. “Ben, I’m - I’m sorry. I thought that…”

“It’s alright,” He leaned forward, one elbow propped up on the table, his other arm crossed over his groin.

Rey brought her hand up to her face, trying to hide her embarrassment, or her smile, or both, and then tore her eyes away from him. Her cheeks flushed ten shades of red; her pulse in her ears.

Ani was clearly none the wiser. Because, with a grin, she cupped her hands over her mouth, staring across the table, and then whispered, “ _Now, Ben. Tell her now._ ”

A low groan, barely-audible, hummed in the back of his throat, and if he bit his bottom lip any harder, then it was going to bleed.

“Tell me what?” Rey peered down at him, her head tilted.

His eyes drifted up to her, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “You’re really pretty.” He choked out, causing her face to soften. 


	11. (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey take Ani to Maz and Chewie's farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I hope you are all staying safe and washing your hands!
> 
> It took me a little longer to finish this chapter, BUT... it's over 7,000 words! And with it, I've finally reached 50K. Which is wild! Because I started this story just to practice and gain confidence in my writing, but somehow it turned into so much more than that. And I cannot thank you all enough for being so supportive, and for always letting me know what you thought, or for just simply reading. It means everything to me. So, thank you.
> 
> The song for this chapter is (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman by Aretha Franklin. An absolute queen.
> 
> Enjoy.

Rey knew that he was going to ask her to help him.

It wasn’t a matter of _would he_ , or _will he_. It was just a matter of _when_. Because car seats were confusing and complicated, even for veteran parents, and Ben Solo had never even touched one before today, let alone installed one. Not to mention the tips of his ears were already red, and his muffled curses were becoming a little more creative with each passing second.

So, like winter, it was definitely coming.

But, in the meantime, there wasn’t any harm in watching him try.

Who knows? He might even surprise her.

She had considered stepping in more than once and just doing it herself, because she had told Chewie and Maz that they would be at the farm by noon, and it was already ten minutes after. But every time Rey started to tell Ben to move out of her way, she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it. Not when there had been so much excitement in his eyes whenever he first showed her the car seat, almost like he had been waiting all morning for her to see it. Or the way his whole face had seemed to light up once he realized that he had bought the right one.

It was such a little thing. But she could tell that it mattered to him. And because it mattered to him, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was doing it wrong. Or that the strap didn’t go in _that_ particular slot. Or that the seatbelt would quit locking in the refractor if he would JUST STOP JERKING ON IT.

“I just, I just buckle it in, right?”

Rey tilted her head to the side, staring at his back, noticing how his t-shirt stretched across his shoulder blades, or the way his triceps flexed every time he tugged on the seatbelt, or the fact that his handspan was nearly the entire width of the car seat.

“Rey?” He turned his head to the side when she didn’t answer him. His tone just shy of worried.

“Yeah,” She hummed breathlessly, chewing on her lower lip. “You just… buckle it in.”

Obviously, there was more to it than that. The angle and position of the seat had to be just right. The belt straps had to be tight enough to keep it from jarring or tilting whenever the car braked, or turned, or bounced over a speed bump. But Rey was so distracted by the fact that he made a mid-size SUV look like a Matchbox car, that she couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than how broad he was.

“Are you sure, because…” His voice trailed off in a strained grunt; his large frame moving inside the backseat just enough to smack the top of his head on the roof. “ _Fucking shit._ ”

Rey put her hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

“ _Mommy_ …” Ani whispered out of the corner of her mouth, standing next to Rey with both hands wrapped around a juice box. Her lips stained purple. “ _Should we help him_?”

Rey leaned to the left, never taking her eyes off of Ben, “ _Not yet_.”

“I can hear you two whispering.”

“You’re doing great, Ben!” Ani bounced on her toes before bringing her mouth down to the straw, taking a sip.

He answered her with a very deep, Han-like grumble, and Rey had to physically stop herself from laughing. Her lips pursed together; her eyes all squinty. The air blowing out of her nose in a hard snort. She wrapped her arm around her stomach and propped her other elbow on her forearm, keeping her hand over her mouth to muffle as much of it as she could.

He was trying so hard to impress her. She knew that. And he knew that she knew that. But what he didn’t realize, or didn’t know, was that it was working. Every little thing that he did for Ani, or for her, made her fall that much further in love with him. And the best part was that he wasn’t doing it to make her love him. The love, in his mind, was already there. He _knew_ that she loved him. So, this wasn’t about love. This was about showing her that he was in this for the long haul, that he was committed to being a father, a partner, a friend.

Whatever she wanted him to be, he was ready to be it.

And right when her mom brain started to do that _thing_ again, it finally happened.

“Would you, um… Would you think less of me if I asked you for help?”

The smile on her face was almost painful, her cheeks and lips aching from the stretch, and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her, because if he could, then he’d probably assume that she was laughing at him, when she wasn’t.

She was just happy. Incandescently happy. Because everything she had ever wanted was standing right in front of her and beside her, all within reaching distance, and this time she was going to be able to keep it. The makings of her own little family. The first, true steps towards forever. And she was ready to take them. To see where they would lead her.

And as she stepped forward, approaching him, she reached out and put her hand on his back. Partly because she needed tangible proof that this wasn’t a dream. Mostly because she just wanted to _feel_ him, to see if his muscles still had a feather-light twitch whenever she touched him. And when it did, when she felt the spasm, a calm warmth immediately spread through her belly, rising up to her chest, growing and growing and growing until she was holding her breath without even realizing it.

Ben, however, hadn’t been expecting her to touch him. Not that he was against the idea, or that it would ever be unwanted. He just wasn’t expecting it. And, in his defense, he was still trying to get the seatbelt tongue out of the hole that he had shoved it in. So, he didn’t know that she was already behind him.

For all he knew, she could’ve walked around to the other side of the Range Rover. But the moment her fingers brushed up his spine, his whole body sprung up. The back of his head smacking the doorframe. A loud _pop_ echoing across Han’s driveway.

“ _Shit_ ,” he squawked, reaching up to massage his scalp.

Rey yelped too, jumping because he jumped, and then when she looked up at him, her smile quickly turned into another laugh. One that she didn’t have time to hide. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m...” He turned and froze, his arm bent at the elbow, his hand behind his head, and before he could finish his answer, he had already forgotten the question.His poor brain only able focus on one thing at a time.

And, right now, that _one thing_ was her eyes. Staring up at him behind a fan of dark lashes. Her irises sparkling with all of the colors of the earth — pigments of brown and green, black and white, and if he looked hard enough, a little trace of blue.

He could get lost in there if he lingered too long.

“Ben?”

“You are…”

Rey tilted her head curiously, her gaze shifting to the swell of his lips, watching them open. The warmth inside of her burning hotter. “I’m what?”

The corner of his mouth twitched into the hint of a grin. More shy than confident. “Beautiful.” He answered quietly. His voice vibrating through his throat. “You’re beautiful.”

She gave him a soft smile, and then brought her hand up to his face, brushing the pad of her thumb across his cheek. “How hard did you hit your head?”

“Musta been _real_ hard.” Ani chimed in, slurping her juice. Her gaze shifting from Rey to Ben, then back to Rey. “Cause yesterday, you were just pretty, Mommy. And today, you’re beautiful. But you don’t look any different.”

“She has a point,” Rey teased him, her brow arching as she moved her arm back down to her side. “You _did_ say that.”

“Can she not be both?” Ben lowered his gaze down to Ani, watching her face crinkle in thought.

She considered it for a second, deliberating it, and then she shrugged, “I guess so. But you should probably just call her beautiful. It sounds better.”

Ben turned back to Rey, smirking. “I think I can manage that.”

She gave him a shy smile, feeling the butterflies in her stomach start to stir from their sleep, and then she began to untangle the seatbelt strap. Undoing his damage. Ben stepped out of her way just enough to give her some wiggle room, but she could sense him watching her hands, trying to memorize what she was doing.

“Do you see this slot?” She pointed at the side of the car seat, causing him to step closer to her. His chest an inch away from her back. “You have to,” she sucked in a breath, inhaling the earthy scent of his cologne. “You have to thread the seatbelt through here and then buckle it in on the other side,” she told him with a hard swallow. “There are latches on both sides, here and here, that you can use too. But I normally just use the seatbelt.”

Ben nodded quickly, listening to her instructions, trying to learn how to do it. And with her explaining the mechanics of it, showing what went where, he started to feel a little more confident. Like, he might actually be getting the hang of this Daddy thing. But when Rey bent over the seat to buckle it in, her ass slammed into his crotch, causing a strangled groan to tear through his throat. His hands slamming on the doorframe; his head bowed, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed together. Chanting _dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies_ over and over in his head.

“Ben, I’m so sorry.” She tried to turn around, but her ass was still conveniently shoved into his groin, and the friction was not helping, _at all_. “Are you…”

“ _Please, stop moving,_ ” he let out a quiet whimper. 

She peered up at him over her shoulder, chewing on her bottom lip to keep from smiling, and that _really_ wasn’t helping him either. So, he looked to the left, burying his face into his forearm, his Adam’s apple bobbing through a swallow.

“What’s - what’s next?”

“I still have to buckle it in,” she told him, trying not to laugh.

He nodded again, not looking at her, and listened for the buckle to click into place. Then, once it did, and his looming erection was successfully thwarted, he glanced back down at her, letting out a hard breath through puffed cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Now, what do we do?”

She gave up fighting her grin, “Now, we make sure it doesn’t move.” She said as she placed her hands on both sides of the booster seat, shaking it. “If it moves more than an inch in either direction, then we need to tighten the seatbelt a little more. It’s okay if it moves a little, but you want it to be tight enough to stay in place.”

“Right. Got it.” He inhaled sharply, staring at the car seat.

“Do you want to fasten her in?” She asked him as she turned the rest of the way around, letting him wedge her between his chest and the car seat. “Or do you want me to?”

“I can - I can do it.” He gulped. “I think?”

She reached up, brushing his hair off of his forehead, sensing the insecurity in his voice. “Ben, you’re doing just fine.”

That got him to smile. Even if it was a small one.

“Ani, you’re up.” Rey peered around him. “Do you want to help Ben strap you in?”

“Yeah! It’s not hard, Ben.” She walked up to them, handing Rey her empty juice box, and then stepped between them. She climbed up into the SUV and perched herself in the seat, squirming around until she was comfortable, and then started to pull the harness over her shoulders. “You just gotta buckle this in here, and then buckle that in there.”

Ben smirked as he adjusted the harness over her shoulders, glancing back at Rey to make sure it was in the right spot. And once she nodded, he snapped the tongue into the buckle between Ani’s legs before fastening the chest clip.

“You did it, Ben!” Ani held up her hand for a high-five, a wide grin on her grape-stained mouth.

He blew out a soft chuckle, slapping their palms together. “Now, let’s go see some chickens.” He said with a wink.

—————

Maz and Chewie lived on a forty-acre farm about twenty miles north of Chandrila. A quiet, secluded place, set off the road, with a white, two-story house camouflaged inside of a dense thicket, a weathered gambrel barn that you could tell used to be red, and a massive, weeping willow in the front yard that was known for breaking arms.

Ben pulled into the driveway, parking behind an old, beat-up Chevy truck with a missing tailgate, and then peered up at the house through the windshield. He could see Chewie on the front porch, kicked back in a rocking chair, with a beer in one hand and a Lucky Strike in the other. His foot pushing off the floor, making the seat move back and forth; his work clothes stained with dirt and sweat and hay.

Once Ben stepped out of the car, Chewie held up his drink in salute, grinning beneath his whiskers, and then yelled out, “ _It’s about time you got here_ ” with enough base in his voice to rattle the windows.

“I told him noon,” Rey called back as she shut the passenger side door. Her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun.

“Shoulda told him ten.”

Ben shook his head, huffing out a laugh, and then walked around the hood of the Range Rover, stopping to wait for Rey and Ani. He shoved his keys into his pocket and braced his hand on top of the door, watching her unhook the harness with practiced ease. And after their little spawn was free from her confinements, she jumped out of the SUV and started running across the yard towards a flock of free-range chickens. Mimicking their “ _bock, bock, bock_ ” in a high-pitched squeal.

“Anakin Sofia!” Rey cried out to her. “Don’t be chasing Uncle Chewie’s chickens!”

“Aw Hell, leave that baby alone.” Chewie shouted from the porch. “She won’t hurt ‘em.”

Ben walked up to stand beside Rey, his face visibly worried. “Yeah, but what if they hurt _her_?” He said under his breath.

He had no idea that Ani was going to run wild the minute they got there. Which, honestly, shouldn’t have been all that surprising, considering how she had spent the entire twenty minute drive talking about how she couldn’t wait to see Uncle Chewie’s chickens.

But Ben had assumed — _wrongly_ — that she would just look at them from a distance. Not gallop amongst them like she was a part of the flock.

“Easy, Papa Bear.” Rey smirked, looping her hand around his arm, holding onto the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a chicken.”

“Clearly you’ve never been flogged by one,” he frowned, eyeing the birds with distrust.

Rey snorted out a laugh, and then pulled lightly on his arm, urging him to follow her towards the house. He was a little hesitant, at first. Too busy scowling at the poultry. But once he was certain that she’d be alright, he continued up the walkway, and by the time he made it to the porch, he had only turned back twice to check on her.

“You want a beer to take the edge off?” Chewie asked him with a knowing grin.

Ben shook his head, “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“That your new ride?” Chewie pointed towards the black, Range Rover, and then whistled. “Bet it cost you.”

Ben raised his brow and then took a seat next to Rey on the porch swing, draping his arm over the back, behind her head.

“Then again, I guess you can afford it.” Chewie shrugged before taking a sip. “Han said you’re heading out tomorrow afternoon. You driving that thing down there?”

Ben sighed quietly, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this conversation. He had already had it with Rey and Han. So, now, he guessed it was Chewie’s turn. “No, we’re flying.”

“Flying?” Chewie squinted before realizing that he was being serious. “Let me guess, you got a private jet too?”

“No,” Ben chuckled, tapping his finger on the back of the swing. “We booked a charter flight over in Lake Placid.”

“When are you coming back?” Chewie eyed him, getting all of the hard questions out of the way.

Ben could tell, by look on his face, that Chewie already knew that he was going to. So, again, it wasn’t a matter of _would he_ , or _will he_. It was just a matter of _when_.

“As soon as I finish this tour,” Ben answered him. “I have two shows this weekend, and then we close out in LA next Friday. So, I’ll be gone for about two weeks. Three, at most. Just long enough to smooth things over with my manager and the label.”

“Then, what?” Chewie pressed further, rubbing his thumb along the neck of the bottle, gathering the moisture. “Or have you thought that far ahead?”

Ben drew in a breath, glancing over at Rey, trying to gauge her thoughts.She wasn’t giving him much, just a small smile, but it was enough. “Then, we’ll figure it out.” He shrugged as he turned back to him, repeating what she had said a few days ago. “But I’m not leaving again. Or if I have to, then it won’t be for very long.”

“So, you two…” Chewie wiggled his fingers between them, noticing how close they were sitting, or how they kept looking at each other like two, lovestruck teenagers.

Ben half-grinned. “We’re figuring that out too.”

Rey scooted a little closer to him, feeling the tip of his index finger draw circles into her shoulder. She wouldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to wrap his arm around her. She actually wished that he would. But this still felt intimate. Just the tiniest touch tethering them together. And it was soothing, having him so close, and so warm, tracing patterns into her skin, needing to touch her just as much as she wanted him to.

“Uh huh,” Chewie hummed as he downed the rest of his drink, sounding a little unconvinced. “Well, while you two are figuring it out, I’m going to get another beer. You sure you don’t want one? Either of you?”

“I’m fine,” Ben declined, again, before glancing down at Rey. “You want one?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” she shook her head, doing that face she did whenever she actually wanted something but was too shy to ask for it.

“She wants one,” Ben answered for her, picking up on all of the signs.

When Chewie nodded and went on into the house to fetch them, Rey narrowed her eyes at Ben, and then reached over and pinched his side, causing him to yelp.

“Ow.” He chuckled, rubbing the sting away. “What is this? The third grade? You obviously wanted one. You did the face.”

“If it was the third grade, then I would’ve kicked you in the shin.” She snuggled even closer, deciding that if he wasn’t going to take the hint, then she was going to shoot her own damn shot. “That was fifth grade behavior.” She told him as she nestled her shoulder under his arm and into his ribs, enjoying how warm he was. Her own, personal space heater.

“Ah, I see.” He carefully brought his arm down, wrapping it around her, as if he were testing the waters, letting her set the pace. “At what point do we get to your freshman year?” He asked playfully. “Whenever you used to bake me cupcakes with little flowers on them?”

“I thought you hated those?” She frowned up at him. Forehead creased.

“No, I hated the _idea_ of them.” He corrected as he traced his thumb down her upper arm, making her thighs squeeze together. “But that was just because I hadn’t gotten comfortable in my masculinity yet.”

“Ahh.” She hummed. “But now you have.”

“Now I have.” He smiled.

“So, you can finally admit that my buttercream cupcakes were the best thing that you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“I don’t know about the _best_ thing,” he shot her a mischievous smirk, raising his brow as his gaze slowly dropped down to her lap. “But it’s awfully close.”

“Ben Solo!” She choked out a breathless whisper. Her eyes widening; her cheeks flaming a pale pink. She whipped her head away from him, trying to calm the flutter in her belly, and when she finally found the nerve to look back up at him, he had the _audacity_ to wink at her. “Stop it!”

He let out a quiet laugh, loving the way she blushed. “What? I said it was close!”

She squinted her eyes at him, trying to look offended by his gall, but that only made him grin even harder. And when that damn, dimpled grin started to get the best of her, she reached over and pinched him again.

—————

She had a worried look on her face, a sort of fear that felt all-too-familiar.

And Ben had told her, twice now, that if she didn’t want to do it, then she didn’t have to. It was okay. They could do something else. Like, drive to the backside of the farm and see the sheep, or play hide-and-seek in the barn, or watch Uncle Chewie whittle a pipe out of a piece of cedar.

But she had been adamant about doing this, claiming that she wanted him to watch how she could swing. And Ben had practically leapt at the chance to give her whatever she wanted. But once they made it to the willow tree, she seemed to remember how she had broken her arm the last time she was here, and then her confidence quickly waned.

“You promise not to let me fall?” Her big, brown eyes peered up at him. Her hand brushing the curls out of her face.

“I promise, I’m not going to let you fall.”

“And you’ll get me back down?”

“And I’ll get you back down,” he nodded, assuring her.

“And - and you won’t push me too hard?” She swallowed, her lip quivering.

He crouched down in front of her, wiping the pad of his thumb across her cheek to get the dirt off. “Ani, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He told her for the third time. “It’s alright.”

“But I wanna be brave like you,” Ani told him with a sad frown.

Remembering how Simba had said the same thing to his _dad_ that one time.

“Sweetheart, you _are_ brave,” Ben reached out and took her hands in his, feeling her grip him. “You can do anything that you want to do. Anything at all. But if you don’t want to do something, then it’s okay to say no.”

“Even when Mommy says that I have to take a bath when I don’t want to?” She blinked.

He snorted, bowing his head to hide his smile, and then once his expression was schooled, he glanced back up at her. “That’s - That’s different. You always have to listen to Mommy. But if you’re afraid of something, like _this_ ,” He nudged towards the tire. “…then you don’t have to do it.”

“You’ll be right here with me though, right?” She asked him shyly, looking up at the branches and then down at him. “You - you won’t go anywhere?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She drew in a deep breath, blowing it out through her nose. “Okay. I can do it. I can do anything I wanna do. Right, Ben?” Her eyes shined, staring at him with so much hope that it made his heart race. Needing him to remind her again.

“ _Anything_ ,” he nodded once.

With a heavy swallow, she let go of his hands and eased over to the tire, eyeing the tread, chewing on the inside of her cheek, questioning it, and then when her nerves started to become too much, she quickly turned around to make sure he was still behind her.

“I’m right here.”

“Can you help me up?”

“Of course,” he bent down, grabbing onto her waist and hoisting her off the ground like she weighed nothing. “Put your feet through the center.” He peered around her, making sure she didn’t get her leg hung.

He had already checked for spiders and other creepy crawlies. That was the very first thing he did — even though he didn’t tell her that that was what he had been doing. He just let her think that he was checking the rope, ensuring that it was still sturdy.

Which wasn’t a lie. Because Papa Bear had done that too.

“Now, hold on tight, okay?” He leaned beside her, spreading his hand across the width of her back.

“Don’t push me hard, Ben.” She tensed, clinging to the tire.

“Baby, I won’t. I promise. We’ll go slow.” He rubbed circles along her spine, trying to soothe her. “It’ll be alright. I’ve got you. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She shifted slightly, changing her position. “I - I’m ready.”

“Alright, here we go.” He said as he exerted just enough force to rock the tire, the motion hardly enough to make it move, and when she didn’t immediately tell him to stop, he did it again. “Nice and slow.”

“Don’t - Don’t let me go.”

“Ani, look at me.” He leaned to his left, causing her to peer over. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting you go. I’m _right here_. And if you _do_ fall, then I’ll catch you. I swear to you, I’ll catch you.”

Her eyes started to water. “Always?”

“Always.”

“O — Okay.” She nodded quickly, believing him. “We can, we can go faster now. But just a little bit.”

He guided her forward, never taking his hand off of her back, letting her get used to the movements.

Rey was on the front porch, leaning against the column, with her arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her face. She had come outside to tell them that lunch was almost ready, but seeing Ben hunkered down, pushing Ani on the tire swing, made her forget what she was doing.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, watching Ani like a hawk.

“Uh huh,” she bobbed her head. “Am I, am I doing it? Am I swinging?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He confirmed with a grin. “You’re swinging.”

He watched her eyes light up, a little, nervous giggle purring from her throat, and that was all she wrote for him. He was done for. Not that he wasn’t already done before. But he was definitely done now. She had him wrapped around her finger.

And it didn’t just stop with her.

He glanced over his shoulder, towards the house, seeing Rey leaning against the column, grinning from ear to ear.

She had him wrapped around her finger too. She just didn’t know it yet.

But she would soon enough. Because once he got everything settled with Snoke and the record label, Ben Solo was coming home. And, by shit, he was going to do everything in his power to earn her back. Not win her, like some sort of carnival prize. Or seduce her, like she was just a means to get laid. He was going to earn her, because she was the mother of his child and he loved the _fucking fuck_ out of her.

“Ben, can we stop now?”

“Sure. Of course.” He caught the tire, steadying it, and then held onto her waist, letting her maneuver her way out of center. He was going to set her down on the ground, but then she latched onto his neck, hugging him. So, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to his chest. “Look at you being a brave girl.” He nuzzled his face into her hair, kissing the side of her head. “I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” She leaned back, studying him.

“Absolutely,” he stood up, carrying her across the yard. “It takes a whole lot to face your fears. But you did it!” He held up his free hand, offering her a high-five, the same way that she had done for him.

She smacked her hand against his, grinning as she turned to the porch, seeing her mother. “Mommy, I did it! Did you see me?”

“I did. I saw that!” Rey tilted her head, staring down at them once they made it to the steps. “How does that make you feel?”

“Like Aretha Franklin!” She answered without skipping a beat.

Ben squinted in confusion, looking at Rey. “Aretha Franklin?”

“ _You make me feel_ ,” Rey immediately started to sing. Her voice high and soothing, like an angel. Attempting to explain their inside joke in a way that Ben’s musically-driven brain would understand. “ _You make me feel_.”

“ _You make me feel like uh na-chuh-rul wo-mun_.” Ani joined in, helping Rey finish the lyric.

Ben’s eyes widened, his brows nearly touching his hairline. “I see,” he blinked, moving Ani in his arms, getting a better grip on her. “I take it you like Aretha Franklin?”

“Yeap! She’s the Queen of Soul.” She told him with a very adult-like certainty. “Mommy and I listen to her in the morning sometimes.”

“You do?” He carried her up the steps and then bent down to grab the door handle with his free hand, holding it open and letting Rey go in ahead of them. “What else do you listen to?”

“Lotsa stuff,” she shrugged, clinging to his shoulders. “I don’t know what most of it’s called, or what the words mean, but I like it.” She told him as they passed through the dining room, following Rey into the kitchen. “Do you like music too, Ben?”

He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fighting back a laugh, and then he nodded. “Yeah, I like music.”

 _That_ was the understatement of the century, but he couldn’t exactly tell his four year old daughter that he was the lead singer of a kind-of-famous, Grammy-award-winning, heavy metal band. Or that he didn't just like music. He _made_ music. Because what if she wanted to listen to it? Or, even worse, what if she thought that he was shit? And not _thee_ shit. Like, actual shit.

“Do you like Aretha Franklin?” Ani stared at him with wide eyes, almost like she knew this woman personally and would be offended if he said no.

“Sure,” he smirked. “I like her.”

“Everybody likes the Queen of Soul,” Maz chimed in as she stood over a cast-iron, Dutch oven, the lid in her hand, stirring a pot of minestrone soup. “Anyone that tells you otherwise is lying.” She added before looking over at Rey, “Taste this and see what it needs.”

Ben watched as Rey picked up a wooden ladle, dipping out just enough soup to wet the end, and then brought it to her mouth, blowing on it first. Her cheeks puffed out; her free hand cupped beneath the spoon to catch whatever leaked from the bottom. Then, once it had cooled down enough to try, she turned it up, tasting it. Her tongue slowly dragging across her upper lip, gathering the excess. A soft moan purring in the back of her throat once the flavor hit her.

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ Ben swallowed hard, trying to think about something else, something that _wasn't_ her mouth.

“Nothing.” Rey told Maz confidently, shaking her head. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah, but you’re biased. You'll eat anything. Ben! Get over here.” She motioned for him, waving the ladle. “You’re a food snob. You taste it.”

“What’s a food snob?” Ani asked as she wrapped her arms around Ben’s neck. Her eyes glancing from Maz to Rey.

“It’s someone that buys Himalayan pink salt rather than just plain, ol’ table salt.” Maz answered, causing Rey to snort.

“Do I look like someone that buys pink salt?” Ben found his bearings, taking the ladle from Maz and dipping out a little more than Rey had. Making sure he got at least a piece of pasta, or a vegetable, rather than just soup. “I buy sea salt, like every other red-blooded American.”

Rey looked over at Maz, nodding. “Food snob.”

 _“Are_ you a food snob, Ben?” Ani stared at him, watching him blow on the soup.

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered. Unable to lie to her. Then, he poured it into his mouth, swishing it around his palette, chewing on the solid bits, before furrowing his brows. “It’s good. Doesn’t need anything.”

“See!” Rey threw her arm out towards Ben while looking at Maz. “If he says it’s good, then it’s perfect.”

—————

The dining room had a long, oak table in the center of it, with eight chairs, a set of hunter green place mats, and a beige, woven runner that stretched from one end to the other. The minestrone soup sat in the middle, next to a plate of toasted garlic bread, and beside the bread was a pan of creamy mashed potatoes, made specifically for Ani.

She finally let go of Ben once everyone started gathering around the table, taking their seats, but she still wanted him to sit beside her, and put her napkin in the neck of her shirt, and dip her mashed potatoes, and make sure they weren’t too hot. And he was quick to meet every demand. Scooting her chair up to the table. Tying her hair back so that she didn’t get her curls in her plate. Adjusting the strap on her little overalls whenever it started to slip off her shoulder.

Rey was sitting on the other side of her, trying not to smile every time Ani asked him to do something else. He hadn’t even had a chance to pick up his spoon yet, or fill his bowl, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t enjoying it a little bit. Watching him try to keep up with a well-mannered, albeit needy, four year old. But Rey was also internally _swooning_ , because God, he was so good at this. He was being so patient with her, so attentive, putting her before himself without even realizing that he was doing it. And it was so wholesome and so pure, seeing him like this. Seeing him try so hard to be what she needed him to be. And it made Rey wonder how he could ever think that he wouldn’t be a good father — when it was obvious that he already was.

By the time Ben was finally able to fix himself something to eat, the front door opened, and Han came walking into the dining room with an exasperated look on his face. “Sorry, I’m late.” He called out as he made his way over to the table, leaning down to press a kiss to Maz’s temple, respecting the queen of the house, and then pulled out a seat across from Ben. “The Falcon didn’t want to start. I think the ignition switch might be going out.”

“I’ll come by this weekend. See if we can fix it,” Chewie said with a mouthful of garlic bread. “Might just be the starter.”

“Yeah, well…” Han grumbled as he waved his finger at Ben before sitting down. “The kid’s gonna let me use his fancy, city-boy car while he’s out of town, so take your time.”

“City-boy car?” Ben raised his brow, his spoon hovering over his bowl. “That city-boy car has a 5.0-liter V8 engine, supercharged, with electronic air suspension, all-wheel drive… and it starts.”

“And it has a TV!” Ani added with a clump of mashed potatoes stuck to the corner of her mouth.

Ben looked down at her, then back to his father. “And it has a TV.”

Han quickly relented, realizing that he was outnumbered two Solo’s to one. And he, of all people, knew better than to gamble on those odds. Plus, it was hard to come up with a strong, counter argument when his granddaughter was staring up at his son like he had hung the damn moon.

Her eyes sparkling like two, uncut gems; her whole face grinning every time he said something to her.

And Han had a feeling, just by the way Ben was looking at her, that the door swung both ways. Because Ben looked at Ani the same way that he looked at Rey. His love for them so obvious, and so tangible, that you could practically reach out and pluck it from the air.

Every few seconds, Ani would peek over at Ben, watching him eat his soup. Her neck stretching to see what all was in there; her brows furrowing thoughtfully. And after this went on for about a minute or two, Ben cut his eyes around, catching her red-handed.

“Do you want to try some?” He asked as he swallowed.

He knew that he was setting himself up to fail, because Ani was finicky when it came to food. If it wasn’t chicken nuggets, or potatoes, or cereal, then she didn’t want any part of it. So, this was obviously a shot in the dark. And by the wide-eyed look on Rey’s face, her head shaking from side to side in warning, she evidently agreed.

But when Ani smiled up at him, her lashes blinking, she nodded.

She actually nodded.

Wait, did she just nod?

Ben’s eyes immediately darted over to Rey, wondering if she saw it too, or if he was just imagining things. And when she seemed just as startled as he was, he knew that this was real. This was happening.

“Okay,” Ben drew in a deep breath, centering himself. “Alright.”

He quickly scooped up a little bit of broth and a noodle, avoiding the spinach because _kids_ , and then he turned his entire body towards her, wiping his thumb across the corner of her mouth, cleaning the potatoes off her cheek, before bringing the spoon down to her lips.

And as soon as she started chewing, he drew in a deep breath and held it. Waiting for… _something_. Anything. A frown? A grimace? For her to want to spit it back out?

But once she swallowed, she let out this little, high-pitched hum, a smile spreading across her face, and Ben would’ve sworn that he had won the lottery.

“You - You like it?”

“Uh huh,” She put her hand on his forearm, brows raised so sweetly that he thought he might die. “Can I have some more?”

“What? Yes! Of course, you can. You can have all of it.” He scrambled to get his bowl, fully prepared to just give her the rest of his, because this was his baby girl, and she was willing to try something new, and _H_ _oly Christ._ But before he could lift the bowl off of the table, Ani was trying to climb into his lap. _Oh, okay. So, this is how we're doing it._ He lifted his left arm up, moving it out of her way, and then lowered it once she was straddling his leg. His fingers splayed across her belly, holding her back to his chest. "Do you, do you want to try the garlic bread too?" He asked her, since he was seemingly on a roll.

She crinkled her brows curiously. “Do you like garlic bread?”

“Mmhm," he bobbed his head, trying not to fucking _cry._

"Okay, then." She shrugged, bringing both hands up to her face and smoothing the baby hairs off of her forehead. “I’ll try it.”

Rey propped up her elbow, resting her chin in her hand, feeling a little bit jealous, despite the fullness in her chest. But that jealousy didn't last very long. Because before it had time to settle, Ben looked over at her, his baffled expression just shy of adorable, and whatever envy she had felt quickly turned into adoration. Pure, unbridled adoration. The kind that filters in light, making everything around her, and inside of her, suddenly become so earth-shatteringly clear. _God,_ _I love you. More than you even know._ She smiled at him, her cheeks pushed up to her eyes, making them squint. And without having to think about it, he smiled back. His dimples digging into his cheeks; his earlobes turning pink. Making her wonder if maybe he _did_ know.

—————

Han was sitting out on the back porch, manspreading in an old, wooden lounge chair with a beer in his hand and a glint in his eyes. He heard the door hinges creak open to his left, but he didn't bother to see if it was Chewie or Maz coming to join him. Too busy watching his son be a father. 

"What are they doing?" Chewie asked him as he plopped down in the seat beside him, twisting off a cap with those bear paws that he calls hands.

Han lifted his chin, smirking. "Looking for fairies."

"Fairies, huh?" Chewie's chest jerked through a chuckle as he let the neck of the bottle hang loosely in his fingers. "Didn't know I had those in my backyard."

Han pressed his lips together in a grin, overhearing Rey tell Ben that he had to be quicker than that if he was going to catch one, while Ben clamped down on whatever grumble he had in his throat. It was obvious that the poor kid was nowhere near his comfort zone, crawling around on the grass, peering through Maz's hedges, but Han could tell that he was doing his best to expand it. 

"I'm worried about him, Chewie."

Chewie looked around, "Who Ben?"

He nodded, drawing in a sharp breath, bringing his beer up to his lips. "I'm afraid he's gotten himself into a mess with this Snoke guy." He admitted as he took a drink. "I don't know a whole lot about that world, but I know enough. And I know that they're not just going to let him walk away. Not without a fight."

"You talked to Luke?" Chewie cut his eyes around. "See if he could help?"

Han gnawed on his lip, shaking his head. "I just got my son to trust me again. I'm not going to break that trust by calling Luke. If Ben wants his help, he'll ask for it. But right now, I think he's pretty set on doing this on his own."

Chewie stared at him knowingly, "And you don't like that idea."

"He's my son," Han twisted his mouth around. "I don't give a damn how old he is. It's my job to protect him. So, of course, I don't like it. But there's a lot of things that I don't like. Doesn't mean I can't go along with it. And if this is what Ben needs to do, or what he _thinks_ he needs to do, then I'm gonna support him. Like I should've done a long damn time ago."

"You said they wouldn't just let him walk away. Is that what he's doing?" Chewie furrowed his brows. "He gonna walk away?"

"I'm not sure if he knows what he's doing yet. But I do know that if they try to make him choose between his career and _that,_ " Han pointed his finger towards the yard, "Then, they're not going to like his answer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Ben leaves.
> 
> And it's sad.
> 
> Like, real sad.
> 
> So, I apologize in advance.


	12. Stand By Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOMEHOW, the angst has returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!  
> The song for this chapter is the cover of "Stand By Me," by Denmark + Winter. 
> 
> Also, I'm really sorry. 😂

Ben was stalling — stretching one minute into ten, an hour into two, clinging to his sanity just a little bit longer before he had to let it go. He kept telling himself that he could do this, that it was just for a little while, and then he would be back here, where he belonged, with the people that he belonged with. But the thought of getting on that plane and leaving them, when he _knew_ that he didn’t want to, made him feel like he was being _dragged_ to the gallows.

He hadn’t slept at all last night, and once he finally gave up trying to, he found himself sitting on the ground at New Hope Cemetery, next to a heap of dried dirt and dying flowers. Staring over at a metal nameplate where her tombstone would eventually be. His knees bent to his chest. His hands locked around his shins. He didn’t know why he was here, or what difference it was supposed to make, or if he was just wasting more time before he had to be at the airport, but deep down, whether he realized it or not, Ben Solo was _here_ because he needed his mother.

Leia would’ve known what to do. He might not have liked what she would’ve said, at first, or how blunt she would’ve been in saying it, but she would’ve known how to fix the mess that he had made. Because, right now, Ben didn’t know what the Hell he was doing. And it felt a little like defeat having to admit that. But it was true. He had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to be with Rey and Ani, but he didn’t want them anywhere near Snoke. He wanted to stay with his father, where he finally felt safe and wanted and loved, but he didn’t want to risk bringing the media to Chandrila any more than he already had. He wanted to make music and carry on the memory of his grandfather and make him proud, but he didn’t want to lose this chance at having a normal, quiet life, away from the spotlight, or the scrutiny, or this constant need to stay relevant as Kylo Ren — when he just wanted to be Ben Solo.

"Hey, kid.” His father’s voice called from behind him. Soft, yet deep. "I thought I might find you here."

Ben wiped his face with the back of his hand, centering himself. “I take it the Falcon started?”

“Yeah, she started.” Han grunted as he sat down on the ground beside him. Old age creeping up on him a lot faster than he cared to admit. “You alright?”

Ben shook his head, his lip quivering, thick tears swelling in the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn’t push the word out, but Han seemed to hear it all the same. Because his hand reached up, holding onto the back of Ben’s neck, pressing just enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

“What’s bothering you, son?” Han asked him gently.

“All of it,” he choked out, swallowing. His jaw working through a wobble. “I fucked up, Dad.” He said in a low whisper, staring down at his knees. “I should’ve never signed that contract. But I did. And now I’m— I’m sitting here, trying to find a way out of it, and I can’t seem to come up with anything. And I just feel _trapped_ , you know? Like, I can’t win, no matter what I do.”

Han pressed his lips together, swallowing.

“But I know if I stay here,” Ben continued quietly. “Then, I’m going to lose my entire career. Every song that I’ve ever written. Every project that I’ve ever worked on. My credibility as an artist. I’ll lose all of it. And I can live with that.” He nodded. “I can. I can live with it. I’d give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant that I could be with Rey, and Ani, and _you.”_ He peered over at him. “But if I don’t go back, then Snoke is going to come looking for me. He’ll come after me with everything that he’s got, just to show me that he owns me.”

“He doesn’t own you.” Han shook his head. “No one owns you.”

He frowned defeatedly, shrugging. “Yes, he does. And if he thinks, even for a second, that I’m pulling away from him—then, he’ll either do everything in his power to make sure that I don’t. Or, if he knows that’s not an option, then he’ll ruin me _so fucking bad_ that I won’t be able to go to anyone else.”

Han stared at him curiously, his brows pinched. “What does he have on you, Ben? What does this Snoke guy know that’s got you so afraid of him?”

“He knows who I am.” He admitted. “He knows my real name, where I’m from, who my family is. And right now, no one from my world knows that, _but him_. And I can’t — I can’t let him use that against me. And he _will_ , if I don’t give him what he wants.”

“And what he wants… is you,” Han tensed his jaw, fighting a glare.

“Yeah,” Ben sighed. “He’s already threatened to sue me. And I don’t — I don’t give a shit about that. It’s not about the money. Let him fucking sue me. He can have all of it. Or, if he wants to fuck me over, and make me out to be a villain to the press, then that’s fine too. I can take it. But I don’t want — I don’t want Rey, or Ani, or any of you, to be brought into that. I don’t want your names being made public, or your lives being exploited for the whole fucking world to see, and I damn sure don’t want them to know where you live. And that’s exactly what Snoke will do if I walk away from him.”

“Ben, I know that you don’t want to hear this,” Han said carefully, bracing himself for whatever reaction he was about to get. “But have you thought about calling Luke? See if there’s anything that he…”

“Could do?” Ben cut his eyes around. “Who do you think introduced me to Snoke?”

“I know,” Han nodded. “But Luke didn’t realize the kind of person that Snoke was, Ben. He told me that himself.”

It was true. Luke hadn’t known.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben chewed on his lip, shrugging. “I highly doubt Luke Skywalker would be willing to sully his perfect record for a case that he won’t win.”

“What do you mean, a case that he won’t win?”

Ben scoffed, looking just as defeated as he felt. “I’m not exactly innocent, Dad.”

“Maybe not. But you’re his nephew.” Han leaned towards him, sensing the subtle break in his voice, hoping that it might mean that he was open to the idea of going to Luke. Or at least considering it. “And I know that Luke will help you, if you ask him to.”

Ben licked his lips, nodding quietly, letting his father know that he was listening, even if he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I just don’t want you to think that you can’t ask for help, son. Or that you won’t get it, if you do.” Han squeezed his shoulder, rocking him from side to side. “And I know right now you feel like you’re going to lose _something_ , no matter what you do. But I can tell you, you’re not going to lose your family.” He said strongly, forcing Ben to look over at him. “We’re right here and we’re not going anywhere.”

Ben tried to smile, but it turned into a frown, and before he could stop them, his tears were falling. “I know.” 

“I don’t think you do,” Han shook his head slowly. “But that’s alright. Because when all of this Snoke business starts to go haywire, you’re going to look around, kid. And you’re going to realize that you’ve got a lot more people standing by you than you thought you did.”

—————

Ben stood in the foyer, a lot more composed that he had been the first time he met her. His hands much steadier and less shaky; his mind calmer now that he wasn’t worried about whether or not she would like him, or if he was capable of being a father. He still didn’t know what he was going to say to her, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be goodbye. Not just because she wouldn’t understand him, or think that goodbye meant forever, but because he simply _couldn’t_. He couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell either of them that.

He let out a deep sigh, his head bowed, staring down into the glass eyes of a stuffed raccoon — a little, pudgy one with soft, grey fur and a ringed tail. He had bought it on his way home from the cemetery, hoping that it might comfort her, having something to hold onto and cuddle with while he was away. And since Rey had told him that raccoons, for some odd reason, were her favorite, Ben figured that this little guy might do the trick.

Or, in the very least, it could stand in his place until he could get back to her.

But when Rey’s SUV pulled up outside, and Ani got out of the backseat, Ben noticed that she wasn’t bouncing up the sidewalk like she usually did, and she wasn’t smiling either. She had her head down, tugging on Rey’s arm like she didn’t want to come inside the house, and by the time the door was open, and Ben squatted down in front of her, she froze.

Looking at him, then the stuffed animal, then back to him.

“Hey, sweet—“ Ben started to speak, but as soon as he did, she took off running. Her feet pattering on the hardwood floors in loud thumps. “— _heart._ ”

Ben stared through the doorway into the living room, his knees still crouched down, watching Han pick her up and wrap his arms around her with a confused, yet sympathetic, look on his face. And after a few seconds of excruciating silence, Ben heard the first sniffle.

She was crying.

And he knew _why_ she was crying.

And he _hated_ knowing _why_ she was crying.

So, he stood to his feet and started to go to her, because he wanted her to know that this wasn’t permanent, and that he’d be back before she knew it, but before he could take the first step, Rey grabbed onto his arm. Squeezing lightly.

“Ben,” she whispered, her lips pressed together as she swallowed. “Just give her a minute.”

“But I just…”

“I know. It’s okay. She’ll be alright.” She assured him. “Just give her a minute.”

She brought her hand down to his and then urged him to come with her to the kitchen, because he looked like he was about to have a panic attack, and she didn’t want him to believing that this was, somehow, his fault. Even though it kind of _was_ his fault. Ani just didn’t want him to go, and she didn’t understand why he had to, and with that confusion came irritability, and when she was irritable, she had the tendency to avoid the thing that made her irritable to begin with.

Which unfortunately, in this case, was Ben.

But Rey also knew how Ben was, and how his mind worked. Always so quick to fear the worst. And she didn’t want him thinking that Ani was ignoring him because didn’t love him anymore — when, really, she was just confused and struggling to process _why_ she was confused.

After all, this was a lot for a four year old to take in. Having someone come into their life, then getting attached to that person, only to have said person leave a few days later, regardless of however long they’d be gone. And, in poor Ben’s defense, he just wasn’t prepared for this.

So, Rey wanted to give him a few minutes to breathe, and think, before he tried to talk to her. And give Ani time to calm down before he did.

“What do I do?” He said in a panic as they entered the kitchen. His arms hanging at his sides; the stuffed raccoon still in his hand. “How do I fix this?”

Rey reached into the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water, before twisting off the cap and handing it to him. He looked a little muddled, at first, not sure why she was giving him that, but he took it anyway, and started drinking.

“I sent you a text, trying to warn you.” She frowned with just the right amount of empathy to make him sweat. “I take it you didn’t get it?”

He shook his head no, trying to swallow. His chest heaving through a breath.

“Does she know that I’ll be back? That I’m coming back?”

“I tried to explain it to her,” Rey told him as she took the bottle of water from him, and then put it on the counter. Her voice slow and gentle. “But she just lost her grandmother, Ben.” She stepped closer, being mindful of her words, but also needing him to see why Ani might react this way. “And, right now, she still doesn’t understand why Leia isn’t around anymore. Or why she can’t talk to her. And I’ve tried — I’ve tried to tell her that this is different. That you’re not going to be gone for very long. But she’s only _four,_ and this is confusing her.”

“I _know_ ,” his eyes watered. “But what am I supposed to do? I can’t stand the thought of her being upset with me, or _crying_ , or thinking that I’m leaving her, when I’m not. I’m not leaving her, Rey. I’m not leaving _either of you._ But I have to go back. I have to. Just until the tour is over. After that, I’m going to be pretty damn hard to get rid of.”

She brought her hand up to his cheek, “That’s good.” She smiled up at him, brushing her thumb along the corner of his mouth, trying to calm him. “Because I don’t want to get rid of you. And neither does she. But, right now, she’s _confused_ and she’s angry. And when she’s _angry_ , she acts just like her _father_.”

He tried to grin, and for the most part, he did, and she might’ve even believed him, if his eyes weren’t so expressive. But they were. And she could tell that he was struggling through it. Forcing it for her sake.

“Ben, I promise, it’s alright.” She tilted her head, feeling his hand slowly reach up to touch her side. His fingers spread across her ribs. “She does this with me too, sometimes.”

She didn’t do it very often, but he didn’t need to know that. Not right now. Not when he was a breath away from a breakdown.

“But once you get there, and we can FaceTime, and she can _see_ you, she’ll be okay.” She assured him. “She just loves you, and she doesn’t like that she won’t be able to see you whenever she wants to. That’s all it is.”

His other hand reached up to her waist, somehow managing to hold her _and_ the raccoon at the same time. A spark of light passing over his eyes. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he repeated eagerly. “Both of you. Come with me to LA. I’ll — I’ll keep you away from Snoke. It’ll just be us. The three of us. And once this is over, we’ll come back, and…”

“Ben, I can’t.” She whispered sadly, stopping him in his tracks. “And you _know_ that.”

She had already taken off work two days in a row, closed down her shop entirely, despite needing the income, just so she and Ani could spend time with him. And even though it made her heart _sing,_ knowing that he wanted to take them with him, she still couldn’t leave. She had her own business, that she had worked hard for, and her own life, that she didn’t want to uproot.

He let out a deep sigh, pressing his forehead into hers. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, you should’ve.” She held onto the sides of his face, closing her eyes. “And I’m glad that you did.” She whispered. “But our lives are _here._ And it’s okay if, right now, yours isn’t. It’s okay.”

He nuzzled into her. “You… and Ani… _are_ my life. And I swear to you,” he said as his breath warmed her face. “…as soon as this is over, I’m coming back to you. And I’m never leaving you again.”

He turned his head, pressing his lips to her temple, breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo, and then slowly wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her tight. She melted into him, locking her arms around his neck, feeling him lift her up until her toes were brushing the linoleum, and then she tucked her face into his neck. Feeling him swallow.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled into his skin, letting those three, little words wash over her like warm, summer rain. Soothing and healing and wanted _._ He wasn’t waiting for her to say it back, or even expecting her to, because he was already relaxing into her. Calm and centered. As if this was more than enough for him. Just this. Holding her. Feeling her. Having her close to him.

But it would be a disservice, to herself, if she didn’t tell him that she loved him, when she _knew_ that she did.

“And I love _you_ ,” she leaned over, kissing the side of his face, next to his ear.

She felt him squeeze her a little tighter, her chest pressed flat to his, and it felt _good_. It felt so good. Having him with her, falling right back into place, like a puzzle piece that had been missing. And she found herself wishing that these next however-many-weeks would hurry up and end, so that she could do this again. Hold him. Feel him. Have him close to her. Without anyone, or anything, standing between them _._

“Have I given her a minute?” He asked as he pulled away from her. His voice quiet and vulnerable. “Do you think it would be okay if I, if I tried to talk to her now?”

Rey wiped the tears off of his face and nodded, “Just be patient with her, and with yourself.” She added, knowing that it would be much easier for him to do the former, than the latter. “And don’t get discouraged if she doesn’t say anything. Because like I said, she acts like her father when she’s angry.”

He let out a quiet snort, kissing her forehead.

—————

Ani was curled up in Han’s lap when Ben and Rey came into the living room. Her face hidden in the front of his shirt; her fingers gripping the fabric as Han rubbed slow circles across her back. She seemed to sense that he was there, because the closer he got to her, the stiffer she became. Holding onto Han a little tighter. Refusing to look up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Ben knelt down beside the recliner, but the second he did, she turned her head in the opposite direction. Facing away from him. “I bought you something,” he told her gently, sitting the raccoon beside her, next to Han’s arm, and then dropped his hand back down to his side. “I thought maybe you could watch him for me, just until I get back.”

She didn’t budge. Not even in the slightest.

And he would rather take a beating than to have her be angry with him, or upset with him, or think that he didn’t love her enough to stay. Because he did. He loved her so much that it hurt. And it was tearing him apart, having her not even want to _look_ at him, when he was down to the final hour. About to walk out the door.

Yet, he had hurt her. And as he watched her little fingers _cling_ to his father, he suddenly realized exactly _how_ he had hurt her. Because, once upon a time, the same thing had been done to him. And it was something that he had sworn that he would never do.

Lie.

“Ani, I know you probably think that I lied to you.” He swallowed hard, feeling the tears start to swell. “And I guess, in a way, I did.”

Ben Solo was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

“But, baby, I didn’t mean to,” he said in a long, whispery sigh. His lip trembling. “I would never make you a promise that I didn’t plan to keep. And I know — I know that I promised you that I wasn’t going anywhere. And I understand why that might confuse you. Because I’m doing the very thing that I told you I wouldn’t.”

He rubbed the tears out of his eyes, remembering all of the times that Han had promised him that he wouldn’t be gone long, or that it was just a quick trip. Then, not coming back for months at a time.

And, now, here he was. A real chip off the old block.

“But I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.” He tried to steady his voice, feeling history repeat itself. “Because I want you, and I _love_ you. I do. I love you. And I’m going to miss you, every day, while I’m gone. But that’s why I _know_ it won’t take me long to get back here. Because I refuse to be away from you, or your Mommy, for a _second_ longer than I have to be.”

He peered up at Rey, watching her fight back a sob.

“You wanna tell Ben that you’ll miss him too?” Han whispered to her, trying to nudge her, but Ani quickly shook her head, grunting out a quiet “ _Uh uh_.”

“Anakin,” Rey whispered. Her tone stern, yet desperate.

“It’s alright,” Ben nodded as he stood to his feet. “She’s alright.”

He ran a hand through his hair, peering down at her, and then to Han, watching his father give him an apologetic frown. One that Ben quickly shook off. Not because he didn’t care, but because he understood what she was feeling. Probably better than anyone else in the room. And if she needed time, then he would give it to her.

He reached down into his pocket, pulling out his phone and checking the clock. They still had to swing by and pick up Hux, and if they were going to make it to the airport on time, then they needed to be leaving. He looked over at Rey, and she seemed to understand, so she followed him out of the living room and into the foyer, where his duffle bag was already sitting by the door. He heard Han grunt as he stood up out of the recliner, and then once Ben and Rey were outside, Han carried Ani along behind them, headed towards the car.

The plan was for Rey and Ani to take them to the airport, so that Ani could see the plane. Thinking that it might be fun, or exciting, for her to stand out on the runway and watch something so big, and so loud, take off into the sky. But what had seemed like a good idea the night before, didn’t really _feel_ like a good idea now.

And when Rey began to strap her into the car seat, Ben was starting to reconsider.

He didn’t want her to do this if she didn’t want to, and he definitely didn’t want her to have to watch him leave if it was just going to upset her more than she already was. But before he could voice his concerns, he felt a hand on his back.

“Son...” Han called to him, causing Ben to turn around. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Ben quirked his lips into the hint of a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and then he dug back down into his pocket, getting his car keys. He brushed his thumb over the fob, glancing over at the Range Rover sitting in front of Rey’s SUV, before looking back at his father. “You wreck it, you’re buying me a new one.” He raised his brow.

“You want me to put gas in it too?” Han smirked.

Ben held out the keys. “A full tank.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Han chuckled as he hauled Ben in for a hug, patting his back in a veryawkward, Dad-like show of affection. “Just take care of yourself and remember what I said.”

“I will,” Ben nodded as they pulled apart.

Han reached up, cupping the side of his face. “I’m proud of you, son. I am. I’m damn proud.”

“I haven’t done anything yet, Dad.”

Han shook through a silent laugh, tapping his cheek. “Sure you have.”

—————

Ani didn’t say a word on the way to pick up Hux. Not a single sound. And when they pulled up to the curb, and Ben got out of the passenger seat, he thought that he was going to die. His heart lodged in his throat; his nerves stinging beneath his skin.

He just wanted her to say _something_. Anything.

He’d even take _I hate you_ at this point.

“Armitage,” Rey greeted him casually, her brow arched as she opened the back hatch, lifting it up so that Hux could put his bag in the trunk, next to Ben’s.

He tilted his head, smirking down at her. “Reina.”

“I hear you’ve been busy.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He feigned innocence, shifting his bag around so that it wouldn’t tilt over.

Rey narrowed her eyes, “You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

“Ah, you mean Rose.” He stood up straight, closing the hatch. “Well, if you’re about to give me the _talk_ , then just let me remind you that wherever Ben goes, I go. So, if you think that this is the last you’ll see of me. Well, I hate to disappoint you.”

Rey smiled, huffing through a snort. “That’s all I needed to know.”

He patted her shoulder and then turned around to Ben, noticing that his big, brooding friend looked like he was about to vomit all over the street. “Is there something that _I_ should know?” Hux asked, looking back at Rey.

—————

The airfield in Lake Placid was practically empty — save for a small, private jet that looked a whole lot bigger up close. Ani had never seen one before, unless it was on TV. And she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it, whenever the door started to open and a set of stairs began to lower to the ground.

Because this big, loud machine, with round windows and sharp wings, was going to take her _Daddy_ away from her.

And she didn’t like it.

She gripped onto Rey’s hand, sticking close to her leg, and then watched as Ben slid the strap to his duffle bag over his shoulder. His black hair poking out from beneath a baseball cap; his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked so sad. _Real_ sad. The way that she always did whenever she had a nightmare and then couldn’t find her Mommy once she woke up from it. And she didn’t want Ben to be sad. But she also didn’t want him to leave, and she just didn’t know what to tell him to make him stay.

He let out a shaky breath and then squatted down in front of her, his eyes shining. “Baby, just say one word. That’s all I need. Just one.” Ben worked his jaw, practically begging for _anything_. It didn’t even matter what it was.

But she didn’t have one word. She just didn’t have one. So, she stared at him. Her lips pressed tightly together to keep them from trembling; her eyes watching his start to water. And when he seemed to accept that she wasn’t going to talk to him, he reached out to hug her instead. But she backed away from him. Her feet scooting on the tarmac, moving even closer to Rey.

“Okay.” Ben nodded quickly, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you soon. I’ll be back soon.”

He stood up, his shadow blocking out the sun, and then he looked over at Rey, mouthing ‘ _I love you_ ’ before glancing back down at her _one more time_. His chest heaving through a breath; his jaw quivering. And when she still didn’t budge, he adjusted the duffle bag, turned around, and walked away. His friend, _Hugs_ , moving in step beside him. Leaving her and her mother standing by the SUV.

She didn’t know why she hadn’t let him hug her. Or why she had backed up. Because she wanted him to hug her. She did. She wanted him to. She wanted him to hold her, and promise her that everything would be okay, and that he wasn’t going anywhere — just like he had promised yesterday.

But now he was leaving, and the further away he got, the more her chest hurt.

“Daddy, no…” She whimpered.

Her bottom lip started to quiver; her eyes watering until she couldn’t see him anymore.

Rey’s head shot down, mouth falling open.

Ani rushed forward, letting go of her hand. “Daddy, wait…”

Ben didn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear her. The plane’s engine was running and the sound of it overpowered everything else, but she _needed_ him to hear her. So, she took off. Screaming as loud as her little voice would let her.

“Daddy, I’m sorry! I’ll say anything!” She cried out, racing to catch up to him. “DADDY, PLEASE WAIT!”

Ben slowly turned around, the duffle bag slipping off his shoulder, landing on the pavement. A choked breath tearing from his mouth. He staggered towards her, but he didn’t take more than a couple steps before he sunk to his knees, opening his arms as she slammed into him. Her arms wrapping around his neck; her whole body shaking as she tried to breathe and speak at the same time.

“Daddy, I’ll say anything you want me to say.” She wailed into his shoulder. “Just tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it. I promise, I’ll say anything!”

He clung to her. Placing one hand on the back of her head, while his arm snaked around her waist. Cradling her into him. Trying to comprehend how she could possibly know who he was, when it was obvious, by the look on Rey’s face, that she hadn’t told her.

But it was even more obvious, by the look on _his_ , that he didn’t give a damn.

Because she _knew,_ and she had called him _Daddy,_ and that was singlehandedly the best name that he had ever been given. And he wanted to spend the rest of his life just hearing her say it.

“I didn’t mean to not talk, Daddy. I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“Baby, I’m not mad at you.” Ben pulled back, holding her out in front of him, needing to see her face, and for her to see his. “I’m not mad at you.” He shook his head. “I could never be mad at you.”

“I love — I love you too, Daddy. And I wanted — I wanted to tell you at Poppy’s house. But,” her chest swelled through a hard pant, fighting to catch her breath. “But I was so…”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s alright.” He cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Just breathe for me. In and out. Can you do that?”

She nodded quickly, holding onto his wrists as she inhaled slowly, then let it back out. “Are you, are you still gonna, still gonna miss me?”

He choked out a whimper, feeling his heart clench. “Of course, I will.”

“And I’ll still — I’ll still _Face_ you. If you want me to.”

Ben bit his lip, brushing her hair out of her face. “I do. I want you to. You can call me as many times as you want. No matter what time it is. And I’ll call you too. Every chance I get.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She nodded, composing herself. “Then, I guess it's okay if you go now.”

He blew out a hard sigh, smiling at her. The first real smile that he had managed all day. “Are you sure?” He wiped his thumb across her cheek, watching her grin.

“I’m sure.” She said as she peeped around him. “Uncle Hugs looks like he’s gonna cry if you don’t.”

Ben choked out a snort, glancing over his shoulder at Hux, watching his best friend fight back tears. His pale face visibly red; his mouth twisted into a frown. “Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” Ben turned back around to her, smirking. “But before I go, I need you to make me a promise. And it’s a really, really big one. Can you do that?”

“Uh huh,” she bobbed her head. 

“You don’t even know what it is yet.” He raised his chin, looking at her.

“S’okay, Daddy. I'll still do it.” She braced her hands on his shoulders, staring back at him.

“Alright,” He said as he peered around her, watching Rey shake through a sob. Her hand pressed to her forehead; her eyes swollen and bloodshot. “But you have to do it _every single day._ And I mean, every day.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her ear, whispering so softly that no one could hear him but her. And once he was done, once he told her what she had to do, he leaned back, watching a wide grin spread across her face. Her head bobbing so fast that it probably should’ve made her dizzy.

“I can do that!”

"Good girl." Ben scooted closer to her, pulling her into him and kissing her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID I WAS SORRY! 
> 
> Next Up: Dark!DadBen


	13. The Devil in I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE NOTES.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do this chapter a little differently, because there are a few moments in it that might be triggering for some of you. As a victim of abuse myself, I would never want to potentially put one of you in a position to be hurt, or upset, by something that I've written. I love that you are all enjoying this story and its characters, but please, please, please, take care of yourself and your mental health first. 
> 
> If you aren't comfortable with reading this chapter, but want to keep reading the story (because the fluff will be returning soon) then send me a comment and I'll give you a recap of the important parts.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Explicit Verbal Abuse  
> Physical Abuse  
> Graphic injury to a Main Character  
> Very Brief Drug Use  
> Manipulation/Toxic Behavior
> 
> The song is "The Devil in I" by Slipknot.  
> I based The Knights off of them, because that's how I pictured them in my head. LOL  
> Also, I just really love Slipknot.

The first time Ani said it, Rey hadn’t given it much thought.

They were downstairs in the kitchen. Rey was whisking eggs in a Tupperware bowl, getting ready to scramble them. Her hair was in a knotted bun on top of her head, the whole thing cocked to one side; her eyes tired and puffy from spring allergies. Ani had just woken up too. Her little feet padding across the floor with a determined, yet drowsy, stride; her curls in the same untamed disarray. A typical, Friday morning for them. Nothing out of the ordinary. But for some unknown reason, while Rey was in the middle of pouring the eggs into the skillet, Ani walked over to her, craned her neck to look up at her, a wide smile on her groggy face, and then she just _said it,_ out of nowhere, before plodding away.

The second time it happened, Rey started to get a little suspicious.

They were at the flower shop a couple hours later. Rey was elbows-deep inside a sink of soapy water, trying to clean the gunk out of the bottom of a few recycled vases. Her face sweaty and flushed from overexertion; her brand-new apron smudged with dirt stains, flower stains, and a little section of snot from where she had wiped Ani’s nose. Ani was lying on the floor, drawing a picture of what was supposed to be a hot-air balloon, but looked more like a lollipop. Then, once she had finished shading in the basket, she called out to her mother, causing Rey to immediately look down, worried that something might be wrong, but then Ani grinned, and she _said it_ _again_. So casually and so unprompted, before switching out her brown marker for a pink one, and then continued to color.

The third time was the charm though.

They had just gotten home, on the same day, around three o’clock. Rey was rushing to make herself look halfway presentable — putting on a few coats of mascara, applying a little bit of tinted-lip balm, running her fingers through her hair so that it wouldn’t look so flat. Ani was on the couch in the living room, kicking her feet back and forth and waiting for Rey to _hurry up_ so that they could _finally_ FaceTime Daddy. And by the time Rey got in there, and sat down next to her, Ani was already grinning.

“You’re so pretty, Mommy.”

Rey tilted her head, pressing her lips together into a flattered, albeit skeptical, smile. It wasn’t like Ani to tell her that she was pretty. Not _this much,_ at least. And since this was the third time today that she had said it, Rey had a feeling that _someone_ had put her up to it.

And she had a pretty good idea who that someone was.

She wrapped her arms around Ani’s shoulders without warning, trapping her in a bear hug and squeezing just enough to make her squeal out a laugh. Then, Rey bent down and started planting kisses all over Ani’s little face, her forehead, her temples, both cheeks, her nose, her chin.

“Okay! Okay!” Ani giggled, hugging her back. “All you had to do was say _thank you_ , Mommy!”

“Thank you,” Rey gave her one more kiss to the top of her head, for good measure, before she reached down to the coffee table and picked up her phone. “Now, let’s call Daddy.”

“No, we have to _Face_ him!”

“That’s what I meant,” Rey nodded as she scrolled down to Ben’s name.

When she clicked on the button, it hardly had time to ring before he answered, and then when the tell-tell hum sounded, signaling that it was connecting them, there he was. His black hair looking as immaculate as ever. His wide, dimpled grin doing _things_ to her chest.

He was in what looked to be a hotel room, with milky white walls and some sort of abstract painting hung over the bed. Hux was beside him, peering over Ben’s shoulder and smiling just as big.

“Hi, Daddy!” Ani waved her hand excitedly. “Hi, Uncle Hugs!”

“ _Uncle Hugs_ ,” Hux whimpered. His voice high-pitched and a little choked up. “Hi, Ani!” He waved back, clearly trying to gather himself.

“How are my favorite girls?” Ben asked as he leaned towards the laptop screen. His arms crossed over a desk; his shoulders hunched.

“We’re good!” Ani shifted in Rey’s lap, answering for the both of them. “I got to go to work with Mommy today!”

“You did? Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, I drew you a picture. Do you wanna see it?”

Ben let out a quiet chuckle, “Of course, I wanna see it.”

And frame it.

And hang it on the wall.

Maybe even get it tattooed, if he could find an open space.

She quickly jumped down off the couch with a thud, and then ran as fast as she could to her bedroom, leaving Ben and Rey alone. Well, almost. Uncle _Hugs_ was still there, anxiously waiting for whatever Ani was going to show them.

But Ben kept eyes trained on Rey.

And she quickly noticed that those _eyes_ were a little too mischievous.

“Have YOU had fun today?” He asked her, the corner of his mouth tugging to the side in a way that told her he was biting back a smirk.

She arched her brow, “Well, it’s definitely been interesting.”

“Oh, I bet.”

 _There_ it was. That damned smirk.

“Mhm,” she poked her tongue into the inside of her cheek, resisting every urge to grin. “You wouldn’t happen to know why our four year old keeps telling me that I’m pretty, would you?”

Of course, he knew.

She knew that he knew.

He knew that _she_ knew that he knew.

But instead of just fessing up and admitting that he had been busted, Ben dodged her question and answered it with one of his own.

“How many times has she said it?”

Rey tilted her head curiously. “Three. Why?”

“I see.” He hummed, looking even more waggish than he already did. “She’s still not done. But I guess the day isn’t over yet.”

“Still not done?” She squawked, blinking at him. “How many times is she supposed to say it?”

He held up his left hand, holding out five fingers.

One for every year that he was gone.

“Are you serious?” She squinted. “Ben Solo, are you using our _daughter_ to flirt with me?”

His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, “Maybe.” He said as he stared at her, his expression just as smitten as it was smug, and when she finally smiled at him, he had the _gall_ to wink. “Is it working?”

She choked out an airy laugh, feeling her face start to flush. Because _of course_ it was working. But if he was going to be a tease, then she was going to be a tease. So, after a deep breath, she shooed away the butterflies, calmed her expression, and then shrugged just as casually as he did. “Maybe.”

“DADDY, I FOUND IT!” Ani yelled out as she raced back into the living room. She climbed up onto the couch and back into Rey’s lap, turning the picture around so that Ben could see what she drew. Her chest heaving through a pant.

“Hold it back a little,” Rey said softly, adjusting Ani’s arms.

“Do you see it, Daddy?!”

Ben leaned into the camera, watching the lighting slowly start to darken, and then he grinned. “Is that a lollipop?”

“No!” Ani frowned, peeping around the page. “It’s an air balloon!”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Yeah, I see it.”

“It’s _obviously_ a hot-air balloon,” Rey heard Hux argue as his wrist watch blocked the camera view. His finger pointing at Ben’s screen. “What kind of lollipop has a fucking basket? Oh shit, I mean… What kind of lollipop has a basket?” He ducked his head down until his face was visible. “Sorry, Ani.”

“Quit cussing in front of my kid.” Ben elbowed him out of the way.

Ani furrowed her brows. “You say bad words too, Daddy.”

“Yeah, _Daddy_.” Hux nudged him over so that he could _also_ be in the frame.

“You’re right. I do.” Ben nodded, scooting over to give Armie half of his seat. Which made Rey snort, because they were obviously too big to be sharing it. “And I shouldn’t say them.” Ben continued, bracing his arms on the desk. “But tell me something else that you did today. Did you eat anything new?”

Ben needed this. He needed to hear all about her day: what she ate, what she drank, what she drew, if she saw or did something that she liked. He needed it. Because, right now, seeing them and talking to them and listening to them was the _only_ good thing that he had going for him.

“Not really. I tried, um… What was it, Mommy?” She looked up at Rey.

“ _Kettle chips_ ,” she whispered.

“I tried to eat some of Mommy’s _cattle_ chips,” she swung back around. Her face drawn into a frown. “But they weren’t very good. Mommy said they were potatoes, but they didn’t taste like potatoes.”

Ben hid his smile behind his fist, “You didn’t like them, huh?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But I tried them! And that’s what matters. Right, Daddy?”

“That’s right. That’s all that matters,” he rested his chin in his hand, loving that name a little more every time she said it.

“Show Daddy what you did to your arm,” Rey said as she smoothed Ani’s curls out of her face before cutting her eyes over to Ben. Her brow raised.

He tried not to elicit any sort of reaction to hearing _Rey_ call him Daddy, because she clearly wasn’t trying to incite one, but if his pupils dilated any morethan they already had, then they were going to devour his irises.

_Ben love Rey. Ben make baby with Rey. Ben make Rey happy._

He blew out a hard breath, shaking the thought out of his head.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot!” Ani hurried to pull up her sleeve, revealing a forearm full of black and red scribbles from her wrist to her elbow. It was made up of thick, uneven lines that had bled into her skin and smeared into no, real clear-cut image. But Ben got the idea. “Look, Daddy! Now, we match!”

Ben choked out a laugh, attempting to play it off as a cough. “Yeah, we do, don’t we? Those look—They look just like mine. Did you draw them yourself?”

“Uh huh,” she shoved her arm up to the camera so that he could _really_ see it. “‘Cept Mommy says that mine’s gonna come off when I take a bath.”

“Hopefully,” Rey added, shooting another look at Ben.

“Yeah, hopefully.” Ani nodded in agreement. “But when you come home, will you draw me a bird like yours? I tried to draw one. See?” She pointed to her wrist, showing him a black blob that was supposed to look like his raven. “But it doesn’t really look like a bird.”

“I do. I see it. That’s beautiful, sweetheart.” He smiled. “As soon as I get home, we’ll draw whatever you want.”

Ani’s face quickly drew up in a sad frown. Her lips pulled into a pout. “Can you come home _now_?”

Ben shuddered through a choked sigh, finding it impossible to say the word “no” to her. His mouth wouldn’t even form it, and the mere thought of it made his stomach feel all knotted and heavy. And he knew that if that pout turned into tears, then he was going to be out the door and on his way to Chandrila before the first tear had time to drop.

“I’ll be home soon, baby.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Daddy.” She reached up to touch the screen, her chest shaking through a tiny hiccup. “But I’m doing what you told me!” She said with urgency. Needing him to know that she was keeping her promise. “I did it three whole times today! And I still have two more to make five!” She held up her fingers, showing him that she knew how to count that far. “But you said—you said that I can’t tell Mommy all at one time, because that would be _super-spicious_ , so I’m gonna tell her at dinner and then when it’s my bedtime.”

Ben softened into a puddle of mush, wondering how in the Hell his swimmers had managed to create something so fucking sweet and pure and good. But somehow they had. Or, at least, one of them had. And he was never going to stop being grateful for it.

“I love you,” he blurted out in place of an answer. His voice calm and gentle and certain. “So, so much.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” Ani scrunched her face into a grin, and then let it relax. Her expression becoming eager and hopeful. “And you love Mommy too, right?”

“Of course I do,” he smirked, glancing at Rey. “I’ve loved your Mommy for a very, very long time.”

Ani shot her eyes up to Rey. Her head thrown back to get a good look at her. “Have you loved Daddy for a very, very long time too, Mommy?”

Rey licked her lips, biting down on the bottom one, and then grinned at him.

She had loved him even longer.

_—————_

The door to the backstage lounge hardly had enough time to close before Ben’s blood was boiling. Every single drop of it, like a pan of water placed over an open flame. And he knew that if he didn’t hurry up and get out of this _fucking room_ , then he was going to hurl something, anything, everything, into the nearest wall.

He had already picked out what he was going to throw first. The ashtray on the coffee table in front of him filled with a mound of cigarette butts. It looked like a viable option. After that, he’d go for his half empty glass of scotch, then the crystal decanter. Maybe even the table, itself, if he could manage to jerk the bolts up out of the floor. He had the whole scene playing over and over in his head, running on a continuous loop in an effort to sate his growing temper. But despite having every detail planned out and visualized, down to the look on Snoke’s face once the ashtray shattered against the wall, Ben never actually lifted a finger.

He didn’t even move.

He just sat there, on a black, leather couch, with his arms draped over his knees and a cigarette between his fingers.

Not saying a word.

He had already explained himself once today, after he and Hux had been escorted to one of the hotel’s private conference rooms — where they were forced to give a statement to three representatives from First Order Records, two stiff-necked attorneys that had flown all the way from Los Angeles just to hear it, and one highly pissed-off manager that had looked like he was ready to murder them both.

So, Ben didn’t really feel the need to explain himself a second time. Not when he and Hux had made it pretty clear, the first go-around, that their little jaunt through the New England countryside had been an isolated incident that wouldn’t happen again. Not to mention the issues with the cancelled shows in Boston, Chicago, and Cleveland had already been resolved, with both parties seemingly pacified by the outcome. The concert promoters from each respective venue had agreed to settle their financial losses outside of court, conveniently avoiding a lawsuit, and First Order Records had insurance in place to cover the settlements. Which meant that the whole ordeal had been quietly sorted out behind the scenes, without any of those assholes knowing where Ben and Hux had _really_ gone.

Not that it mattered.

The label didn’t give a shit about the truth.

They just wanted an answer, regardless of what it was.

The entire meeting, in itself, had been nothing more than a means for damage control. Very meticulous in its content and obviously scripted. Just a way for the label to remind Ben and Hux of the terms listed in their contracts, what would be expected of them going forward, and how they were going to address the media if, or when, they were ever questioned about the cancellations.

And considering how Ben’s primary concern, throughout all of it, was to protect Rey and Ani, and to keep the world from knowing where they were, he had quickly agreed to do whatever the label wanted him to do.

He’d be their villain, if that’s what it took.

Besides, Ben had a plan.

One that he may or may not have come up with in the last twenty-four hours.

But still, he had a plan.

The way he looked at it, he had six months left on his five-year contract, with the option to sign another one in October once the current one ran out. And since he had already provided the label with the required number of albums originally agreed upon, the only thing left for Ben to do, in order to completely satisfy the terms of said contract, was to finish the rest of this tour, and then wait for October.

After that, he would be free to do whatever the fuck he wanted, and there wasn’t anything that the executives at First Order, or their circle-jerking attorneys, could do about it.

So, _all he had to do,_ ALL HE HAD TO FUCKING DO, was control his temper. That was it. Just control his temper. Stick to the plan. Finish the tour. Then, once it was over with, he would ask the label for a post-album hiatus and let time do the rest. Or if time wasn’t on his side, or the label refused to let him have the hiatus, then Ben would inform those greedy bastards, in writing, that he wanted to buy himself out of the remaining six months of his contract.

Obviously, he’d like to avoid that last part.

Because buying himself out a contract would not be cheap, no matter how much time was left on it.

But he refused, absolutely _refused,_ to spend the next six months away from Rey, or Ani, or his father, or his home.

It just wasn’t fucking happening.

So, if the label wanted to take every dime that he had, then all they needed to do was tell him who to make out the check out to.

But _right now_ , his blood was on fire, and the only thing keeping him from losing his temper was a half-smoked cigarette and a glass of scotch. The two of them working in tandem to give him something else to focus on.

Anything other than Snoke.

Snoke had pulled him to the side not long after they arrived at the arena, demanding that the two of them speak privately before the show. Which was obviously just a way to get him alone, away from the prying eyes of the label, so that he could finally say what he had wanted to say earlier, but couldn’t. And Ben had indulged him. Not because he gave a shit about anything that Snoke wanted to tell him, but because he knew that if he didn’t, then he would end up making these next two weeks much harder than they needed to be.

But Peter Snoke was anything if not a master of psychological manipulation. He knew what words to use, what buttons to push, how to exploit a person’s sense of self, or their emotions, or their weaknesses, so that he could twist each one to serve his own interests.

He was the type of person that needed to be in control. Total control. Over his staff, his partners, his artists. And if he couldn’t control them, then he marginalized them. He treated them as if they were insignificant, powerless, worthless, and then he slowly broke them down until they were convinced that the only way they would ever have any real value in the music industry was if it were through him, or through what he could do for them with his connections and his influence.

It was all a game to him. A power play. And in the beginning, Ben had been the perfect person for Snoke to manipulate. He was incredibly insecure and vulnerable, looking for _anywhere_ to turn, regardless of _who_ he was turning to. And best of all, his heart had been broken. And Snoke knew, better than most, that there was a lot that could be done to a boy with a broken heart.

Especially when that boy had broken it himself and was carrying a whole armload of blame along with it.

“You’d be one syringe away from a fucking morgue, if it weren’t for me.” Snoke eyed Ben coldly. His face sneering. “I stood by you, despite all of the signs, the risks, the warnings. Against my own better judgement. Because I _knew_ that if I didn’t, then you were going to piss away your entire career. Everything that we had worked for. The progress that we had made. It would’ve all been for nothing. So, I stood by you, when no one else would. I treated you like _my own fucking son_. Hoping that, one day, you would show me that you were worth all of the effort that I had been putting into you. Yet, _this_ is how you choose to repay me? By running off in the middle of a fucking tour like some kind of petulant child? By forcing me to make up _lies_ as to where you were or what you were doing, so that we could avoid a fucking lawsuit? Do you even realize how much trouble your little stunt has caused me? Or what I’ve had to go through in order to keep you from being replaced?”

Ben brought his cigarette up to his mouth, drawing in a slow inhale, causing the end to glow a bright crimson and bands of smoke to spiral in front of his face.

He was watching Snoke with skilled impassiveness. A little something that he had picked up after spending dozens, arguably even hundreds, of nights, just like this one, being reminded of how much of a failure he was.

“No. Of course you don’t.” Snoke scoffed, answering for him. His chest jolting through a harsh breath. “You’re too fucking ignorant to see it. You have no idea how hard I’ve fought to make sure that you would have a future in this business. Or what I’ve done to keep you relevant and marketable. Anyone else would’ve _fucked_ you by now. And believe me, I’ve wanted to. Because nothing, and I mean _nothing,_ would give me more pleasure than watching the whole world tear you apart. But fortunately for you, doing that would destroy my career just as much as it would yours, and I _refuse_ to let you just piss it all away for no good fucking reason.”

Ben continued to stare at him. His expression schooled to hide his anger; his jaw locked just to keep it from moving. He was trying _so hard_ to keep calm. Because he knew that any reaction would just lead to more problems, and more problems would keep him from getting back home to his girls.

“So, this is what is what’s going to happen, _Kylo Ren_.” Snoke slowly walked over to him. His small stature attempting to cast a much larger shadow. “You’re going to go out there, on that stage, and you’re going to perform like your fucking life depends on it. Because it does. And then you’re going to do it again tomorrow. Then, again in LA. And if you don’t, and you embarrass me again, the way that you have these past few days, then I’m going to spend the rest of my life making _yours_ a living Hell.”

Ben’s fingers gripped the filter on his cigarette, taking one more long drag before he dropped the rest of it into the glass of scotch, listening to the way it hissed as it burned out.

If this went on for much longer, then he was going to have to fire up another one.

“I brought you into this world,” Snoke leered. Refusing to quit while he was ahead. “I took a boy that couldn’t even stand on his own two fucking feet and I made him a star.” He came even closer until their legs were almost touching. Ben still sitting on the couch; Snoke standing over him. “You were nothing when I found you, and if it weren’t for me, then you would still _be_ nothing. So, don’t think for a fucking second that I can’t take it all away from you. Your career. Your fame. Your _life_. Every bit of it belongs to me. _You_ belong to me.”

There was a noticeable pause. A couple seconds of silence, long enough for Snoke’s lips to curl into a sly smirk. One that played at the corners of his mouth but didn’t fully form. “ _Both of you_.” He added with finality.

Ben’s eyes darted up. The flesh beneath it starting to twitch. He could hear his father’s voice in the back of his mind, like a cooling balm, reminding him that _no one_ owned him, but his father wasn’t here right now.

No one was.

“That’s right,” Snoke nodded in a cold and calculated whisper. “I haven’t forgotten who you are, _Ben Solo_. And by the look on your face, neither have you. But don’t be mistaken, it doesn’t matter what name you go by, _I own both of you_.”

It was like pouring kerosene onto an already well-lit fire. The flames burning Ben’s skin like a hot brand. He knew that Snoke had a lot of power, and just as much influence, and that he was more than capable of making good on his threats, but right now, after spending the last thirty minutes being ridiculed, criticized, and belittled, Ben didn’t give a damn _what_ Snoke had, or what he could do with it.

He was done being treated like shit.

And with his eyes dark and his jaw tight enough to break, Ben finally snapped.

“FUCK YOU.”

Those two, little words was all that he said. But they echoed through the room in a low growl, wiping the smirk off of Snoke’s face. The muscles in his wrinkled cheeks sinking; the pupils in his eyes constricting until they were smaller than the head of a pin.

And at first, for no more than a second, Snoke didn’t respond. He simply stood there, hovering over Ben, staring down at him as a ripple of disbelief washed through him. Not even because of _what_ Ben had said, but because of the defiance behind it. He didn’t like being defied, or being challenged. And he knew, by the look in Ben's eyes, that he wasn't in control of him anymore.

Which was why Snoke’s disbelief quickly whirled into something much, much darker.

Wrath.

His arm drew back, hand balled into a tight fist, and with blind rage blurring his consciousness, Snoke lashed out at him. Putting all of his weight and strength and power into a punch. And even though Ben was quick to see it coming, he _hadn’t_ been quick enough to move out of the way. So, the brunt of the blow managed to miss his face, but slammed _hard_ into his neck, just to the right of his Adam’s apple. Sending a loud POP throughout the room.

It was just one hit.

Just one.

But the pain was instant.

It tore upward from Ben’s throat, through his face, and straight to his temples, causing his head to snap to the side. The room started to spin. His ears were ringing. He clamped his eyes shut to fight the sudden dizziness, and then he choked out a series of harsh coughs that tasted like iron, followed by a gasp that was noisy and strained, almost rattling.

But before he had time to take in another breath, Snoke was lunging forward and shoving him back into the couch cushions. His hand gripping around Ben’s chin and forcing him to look up at him; his expression eerily feral, like a man possessed.

“Let me make something _very_ clear, you ungrateful, fucking cur.” Snoke seethed through gritted teeth. His nails were digging into Ben’s jaw, squeezing hard enough to leave moonlike crescents in his skin. “Your pathetic, little life has been _mine_ since the day you met me. And I don’t give a _fuck_ if you don’t like it. You don’t have to like it. But you might as well get used to it. Because the only way that you’ll EVER get rid of me… is if one of us is buried in the _fucking_ ground.”

Ben shoved Snoke off of him and stood to his feet, pushing him so hard that the back of his legs banged into the coffee table, knocking over the glass and the decanter and causing scotch to spill all over the floor.

But by some miracle, despite the pain piercing through in his throat, Ben managed to stay calm. Deathly calm. The kind of calm that was more of an out of body experience than a deliberate reaction. Because, _deliberately,_ Ben wanted to throw this son of a bitch through the fucking wall.

But the miracle was that he didn’t.

Instead, he coughed up a thick wad of blood and spit and then hawked it onto the floor near Snoke’s feet, before darting his eyes back up, glaring over at him with enough heat to damn-near set the room on fire.

“If you _ever_ ,” Ben’s voice came out in a hoarse rasp, the sound of it causing the color to drain from Snoke’s face. “…put your _fucking_ hands on me again, then that’s _exactly_ where you’ll be.”

Snoke swallowed, trying to appear composed. “You don’t have the balls.”

Ben drug the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the rest of the blood off of his lips. “Then, do it again. Right now.”

“W-What?”

“I said do it again.” Ben moved towards him, causing Snoke to stumble back, stepping into a puddle of scotch. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

Ben glared at him, waiting for him to say something else. All-but daring him to. And when he didn’t, Ben turned around and made his way towards the door, jerking it open and slamming it shut behind him. He couldn’t spend another minute in that fucking room, because he knew that if he did, then he was going to end up in jail.

But as soon as he made it out into the hallway, his adrenaline had worn off, causing him to stagger a few feet before he had to brace himself against the wall. His forehead pressing into one of the white cinderblocks; his hand reaching up to his neck.

He had a pretty high pain tolerance, but he knew the second that Snoke hit him that his throat was _fucked_. He had heard it pop. Hell, he had _felt_ it pop. And even though he didn’t know what “it” was, he knew, by the blood in his mouth and the sound of his voice, that it wasn’t good.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered through a breath. His chest heaving.

He pushed himself off the wall, fighting to find his balance, and then set out towards the dressing room, hoping that Hux or _Phasma,_ the only two people in this building that he could actually trust, would have something that might keep his throat from swelling shut.

He could already tell that it was starting to, because it was getting harder to swallow, so he picked up the pace, dodging all of the looks that he was getting.

There were dozens of people out in the hallway. Mostly roadies, arena security, a couple of journalists and representatives from the local radio stations, and a few fans that had won backstage passes. And every single one of them nearly broke their necks to catch a glimpse of him. The man of the fucking hour. The one with a very prominent welt forming along the front of his throat, a little larger than a fist.

When Ben reached the dressing room, he shoved his way inside, finding even more people in there. Which, honestly, shouldn’t have been surprising. Because privacy was something that had to be demanded in a place like this, or else you didn’t get it. But, right now, he just wanted to go back to his hotel room, pick up the phone, and call Rey.

Because seeing her and Ani had been the only good thing that had happened to him today, and he was _clinging_ to that _one,_ little moment like a fucking lifeline.

“What the Hell happened to you?”

Ben cut his eyes around, finding their bassist, Javier Cardo, staring up at him from a sofa. He was sitting between two, blonde-haired twins, an arm around each one, with a look on his angular face that told Ben that he was trying to seem concerned, even though he didn’t really give a shit.

Which wasn’t unusual. Because the Knights weren’t exactly _friends_. Being _friends_ would give the impression that they were able to stay in the same room with one another for longer than ten minutes without someone starting an all-out brawl.

And that impression, of course, would be wrong.

Truthfully, the only place where The Knights _did_ manage to get along was on stage — when all of their hostilities and differences and resentments faded away to something that was actually pretty beautiful.

Chaotic, but beautiful.

“Ren, what happened to your fucking neck?” Cardo persisted, scooting to the edge of the sofa, seconds from standing up.

The clamor in his voice made Vic and Trudgen stop what they were doing long enough to turn to Ben, wanting to know what all the fuss was about. Neither of them had noticed that he had walked into the room, too busy snorting lines of cocaine off of a squared, metal tray and passing it around to whoever was willing to join in, but once they saw the red mark across Ben’s neck, their mouths fell open.

“Ren, I said what hap…”

“I’m fine,” Ben cut Cardo off in a haggard croak. His eyes scanning the room. “Where’s Hux?”

“He’s in the,” Vic mumbled, blinking. Throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s in the back.”

“Get dressed,” Ben eyed each of them before looking down at the tray in Trudgen’s hand. “And get rid of that shit. We’re on in thirty.”

“On in thirty? _Joder_ , Ren.” Cardo grimaced. His brows pinched. “You can barely even speak! So, how the fuck are we supposed to go on in thirty?”

“Just get dressed,” Ben said as he reached down, plucking a beer from an ice bucket in the center of the table, and then twisted off the top with a hiss before making his way through the dressing room to find Hux.

Thankfully, he was exactly where Vic had said he would be, sitting on a stool in a connecting room in the back, away from everyone else, with a tall, platinum-haired woman across from him, going over their setlist. She had a black, steampunk gas mask in her lap and a toothpick in her mouth, eyeing a crumpled up piece of paper as Ben walked in and closed the door behind him.

She and Hux were already ready for the show — donning matching all-black, prison jumpsuits with the letters, **KOЯ** , printed over the front pocket where the Department of Corrections abbreviation would’ve normally been. And Hux, for some reason, had already put on his mask. A muzzle that covered his mouth like Hannibal Lector, with a strap that ran between his eyes, over the top of his head, and snapped in place in the back. His red hair wild; his eyes focused.

He was twirling a pair of drumsticks through his fingers, getting into rhythm, then stopped once Phasma tapped him on the knee. Urging him to look up at Ben. And once he did, once he saw him, Hux immediately stood up. His drumsticks hitting the floor and rolling away from his feet. His mask coming off in record time, tossing it onto his chair.

“Jesus Christ,” he choked out a gasp. “Did Snoke do that to you?”

Phasma also got up and walked over to Ben. Her brows knitted as she assessed the damage; her eyes roaming from his neck to his face, then back to his neck. “Ben, that looks _awful._ ” She told him quietly, making sure that no one in the other room could hear her call him by his name. “That’s going to fucking bruise.”

Ben took a swig of beer, swishing it around, and then spit it out into a trashcan, trying to get the rest of the blood out of his mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you even hear yourself? No, you won’t.” Hux shook his head quickly before turning to Phasma. “Phas, will you go see if you can find him some tea, or honey — or just… _something_?”

“Just get some ice,” Ben told her softly. “Please.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Phasma nodded, not knowing what else to do, or say.

As she hurried out the door, leaving it cracked open behind her, Hux turned his focus back to Ben, watching him pace over to the mirror and tilt his head back. He ran a hand down the front of his throat, barely grazing the surface, and then turned his face to the side, finally seeing what everyone else had seemed to.

There was a stark-red contusion beside his Adam’s apple that had started to spread to the side of his neck and up to his right ear. Darker in places where the vessels had ruptured. But he could see, now, why everyone had been giving him worried looks. Because not only did his neck feel like shit, it also looked like shit.

Hux cupped his hand over his mouth. The other on his hips. “Ben, did he — did he try to _strangle_ you?” He asked in a hushed whisper, the sound muffled behind his fingers.

“No,” Ben answered, bowing his head and shaking it slightly. “I pissed him off, so he hit me. I think he was aiming for my face.” Ben waved his finger around near his cheek. “But I moved, so he caught me in the throat instead.”

“ _That motherfucker_ ,” Hux tightened his jaw into a frown, running his hand down the length of his face. “What do you want me to do, Ben? Do you — do you want me to take you to the hospital? Do you want me to call the police? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Ben glanced over at him, watching his eyes start to water. “Arm, I swear I’m fine. I just need some ice to stop it from swelling.”

“Stop it from…” Hux mumbled before rushing closer to him. “Is it swelling? Are you having trouble breathing?”

“No,” Ben shook his head again. “It’s just a little hard to swallow. And my fucking head is killing me.” He massaged his temples as he sat down. “But we’ve still got a few minutes. So, I just…”

“A few minutes?” Hux blinked. “Please, tell me that you aren’t planning to go out on stage like this.”

Ben peered up at him, squinting. “Of course I am.”

“You were _just_ spitting blood into a fucking trashcan! You can barely speak, hardly swallow, and now you have a headache. This isn’t something to shrug at, Ben. Your neck could be fractured, or your fucking… what’s it called? That thing that you breathe through.” Hux motioned to his own throat.

“My trachea?”

“That.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at him. “Your trachea.”

“If my trachea was fractured, then I…” Ben tried to speak, but his voice tapered off into a pitiful, ragged whisper. “… I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk,” Hux tensed, noticing that he was starting to sound worse.

As Ben nodded in agreement, Phas rushed back into the room, carrying a bottle of Ibuprofen and an ice pack in one hand, and a steaming mug of lemon tea, that smelled a little bit like Pine Sol, in the other. Hux walked over and closed the door, leaning against it and crossing his arms while she laid everything out on the counter, next to the mirror. 

“Take these first,” she said as she snapped off the top of the pill bottle, dumping a few of them into the palm of her hand. “I know you can take Ibuprofen.”

Her tone was slightly apologetic. Because she, too, had been an addict once, a long time ago, and she knew how important it was to make sure that Ben took the right painkillers. Ones, like Ibuprofen, that wouldn’t risk his recovery and potentially cause a relapse. And since there were already plenty of other temptations floating around backstage, she tried to do her part to keep Ben clean. Not that he had ever asked her to, or even expected her to. She was simply doing, for him, what she would’ve wanted someone to do for her.

Ben nodded his thanks and then popped the pills into his mouth, reaching down to the floor and picking up a half-empty bottle of water. Not caring which one of them it belonged to. Because even though the Knights, as a whole, weren’t close enough to be friends, Ben, Hux, and Phasma definitely _were_. And now that Ben had finally told Phasma who he really was, after years of avoiding the subject, the _trio_ had become even closer.

So, sharing a water bottle was nothing compared to telling her that his name was actually Ben Solo, and that he had a whole-ass family in Upstate New York that he couldn’t _wait_ to go home to.

Phasma squatted down in front of him, bring her fingers up to his chin and tilting his head back. Eyeing the mark. “It’s starting to look a little worse, Ben. And I _really_ think that you should go have it checked out.”

“See?” Hux chimed in from the door. “Even the one that thinks the healthcare system is corrupt, is telling you to go to the hospital.”

“Are we _still_ on this? First of all, I said the _system_ was corrupt.” She fact-checked him. “The system. As in the insurance companies, Big Pharma. Not your little girlfriend. So, calm your shit.”

“Rose isn’t — She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.” Phasma rolled her eyes before turning back to Ben. “I’m going to have the show pushed back another thirty minutes. Maybe even longer, if I can. Drink this,” she held out the tea. “And keep the ice pack on your neck.”

“You really are a mom, aren’t you?” Ben huffed out a quiet laugh.

Phasma arched her brow, “You told me your secret. So, I told you mine. Now, drink!” She stood to her feet and started to walk towards the door, but after a couple steps, she stopped and swung back around. “Oh, and just so you know, if your voice isn’t somewhat better by the time we take the stage, then I’m calling this whole thing off and you’re going to the hospital. I don’t care if me and Hux have to drag your big ass there. You’re going.”

He brought the mug to his mouth, smirking. “If you say so.”

———————

Ben’s mask had a ghostly, emotionless face — almost like it had been pulled straight from a nightmare, or a low-budget horror film, or some kind of abandoned sanatorium in the 1920s. Possibly all three, depending on the angle.

And when he first designed it, he simply wanted something that wouldn’t show the world who he really was, or what he looked like. It was a way for him to hide his insecurities, to add that extra layer of _someone else_ when the persona of Kylo Ren just wasn’t enough.

But now, his fans knew what he looked like, thanks to interviews and tabloids and photos that he didn’t even realize were being taken. So, wearing a mask had become less about disguising himself, and more about maintaining his public persona.

But still, to this day, he had _never_ taken it off while he was on stage.

It was a staple of his image. This white, grease-stained, poorly-stitched-together piece of latex that had just enough flexibility to let him sing without his voice coming out all muffled and distorted. Not to mention he looked pretty badass in it, if not a little menacing — with his wet hair falling over the front in stringy, black waves and his dark eyes shining through two, rounded slits.

It didn’t, however, cover the bruise forming on his neck. And his black, prison jumpsuit didn’t zip up high enough to cover it either. But their fans would more than likely assume that it was just a part of their gory aesthetic, and that it wasn’t actually _real_. So, he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

The other Knights had their own guises as well — with Phasma sporting a leather gas mask and Hux wearing that damn Hannibal Lector-looking muzzle. Sure, it was a little frightening and unusual, but _that_ was the fucking point. It was their motif. It was what The Knights were known for. Cardo was a plague doctor from the Middle Ages, with a long, bird-like beak and round, goggled eyes. Vic was a cross between the devil and Nosferatu. Trudgen was some kind of grotesque gargoyle with fake blood pouring out of his nose and mouth.

And their fans couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Showing up to their shows wearing their own replicas. Getting them tattooed on their bodies in homage to the band, and how their music had helped them through depression, fear, anger, loss, loneliness. Whatever the case may be.

And even though each of the Knights had their own section of the fanbase, with people picking and choosing which member was their favorite, it was obvious, to everyone, even to Snoke, that _Ben_ was who they came to see.

 _He_ was the prize. This tall, mysterious mountain of a man that was as beautiful as he was talented, with a deep, gravely voice that could scream a lyric just as good as he could sing one.

And that was the very reason why Snoke tried so hard to control him, to contain him, to _keep_ him.

Because if the Knights ever lost Ben, then the whole damn castle would fall.

Ben strode through the backstage halls, flanked by Phasma and Hux, with the rest of the Knights following in behind them. The soles of their boots thrumming across the floor in a cohesive rhythm; their long legs moving in unison.

Ben could already hear the crowd as they made their way towards the stage. A loud and distant rumble that became louder and louder and louder until it felt like the building was shaking. Their voices slowly chanting “ _Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren_ ” with an energy so palpable that it rippled through the air like a pulse.

Snoke was waiting for them in an area just off to the side, next to a stack of crates and sound equipment. His expression dour; his eyes fixed on Ben. He looked like he wanted to say something, but as the Knights neared him, Ben kept walking. He had heard enough of Snoke’s bullshit for one day, and if he had to stand there and listen to this bastard tell him to go out there and “break a leg,” then he’d probably beat the Hell out of him.

So, it was best for everyone if he just kept going.

He came over to the stage entrance, brushing his hand along his throat. Then, once he got into position, ready to walk out, every light in the arena suddenly turned off. Leaving just enough of a glow for each of the Knights to take their places. Hux on the drums. Phasma to the far right holding a shiny, chrome electric guitar. Cardo to the far left on the bass. Vic standing on a platform near Hux, in front of a keyboard shaped like a casket. Trudgen to Hux’s left near a turntable. And Ben standing at the microphone with his own custom-designed electric guitar.

The body of it black; the neck blood red.

Out of every show that he had ever played, this had always been Ben’s favorite part. When all of the lights were off and thousands of screaming fans were left in the dark, waiting for the band to come out. Because there was a brief moment, so fleeting that it felt like a trick of the mind, where he could imagine his grandfather being there. Standing somewhere on the front row, leaning against the barricade. Or sitting at stage right, or stage left. Smiling at him. Nodding his approval.

The whole reason that he was even _here_ , or that he had chosen this path to begin with, was because he thought that Anakin would be proud of him if he did. That _this_ was the life that his grandfather had wanted for him because it was the life that they had always talked about — back when Ben was a little boy sitting on the living room floor, listening to vinyl after vinyl after vinyl until the record scratched.

It was the reason that Anakin had spent so much time teaching Ben how to play the harmonica, or showing him how to arrange a melody, or write a lyric. Because he _knew_ that one day Ben was going to be a star. He was going to _be somebody._ And the last thing that Ben wanted to do was let him down.

But tonight, as he stepped up to the microphone, running his fingers down the strings of his guitar and pressing the frets until an unstable, ear-splitting shrill pierced through the speakers — he couldn’t imagine Anakin being there.

He couldn’t imagine him _at all._

And the worst part about it was that he knew _why_ he couldn’t.

He knew.

_God, he knew._

Because the reason that Ben couldn’t imagine his grandfather being there anymore, was because he had never been there to begin with. It wasn’t real. Him standing on the front row, leaning against the barricade. Him sitting at stage right, or stage left, smiling at him, nodding in approval. None of it was real. It had never been real. Ben just didn’t want to stand on stage, in front of thousands and thousands of people, with faces as far as his eyes could see — yet still somehow feel alone.

But imagining his grandfather, the one person that Ben had never disappointed, or hurt, had been nothing more than a coping mechanism. A way for him to manage all of his pain and stress and guilt and loneliness, so that he could try and keep each of them from slowly tearing him apart.

But he was realizing, now, that he didn’t need to do that anymore.

He didn’t need to dream up an image of someone just so that he wouldn’t feel alone.

Because he _wasn’t_ alone.

And maybe he had always known that he wasn’t. Maybe he had just kept the truth hidden away in the back of his mind, because a lie had been much easier for him to believe. But it didn’t change the fact that, all this time, he had been believing a lie. The same lies. Told over and over and over again, to the point where they had begun to feel true.

That he would never be welcomed home again.

That his father and mother would never want to see him again.

That Rey would never love him again.

That he would never be happy again.

That he would never be forgiven.

Every single one of them had been lies. And even though Ben Solo had never been much of a liar, he sure was good at believing them.

But that was going to stop _today_.

It was going to stop _right now_.

Because Ben was finally ready to hear what everyone that loved him had been trying to tell him. Rey. Han. Hux. Even Phasma. Every single one of them had been trying to make him believe one _,_ simple truth. And even though he hadn’t been listening before. He was listening now.

He deserved better.

He deserved to have a home to go back to.

He deserved to be able to rebuild his relationship with his father, and to forgive himself for not being there when he lost his mother.

He deserved to fall in love with Rey over and over and over again, because she was worth being loved _hard_ , every single day, all the time, for the rest of her life, and he wanted to be the one to give that to her.

He deserved to be happy, and to feel safe, and to know that he was wanted, without having to worry about whether or not he was good enough, or wonder if his life had value or meaning, just because someone like Snoke tried to make him feel like it didn’t.

And he deserved to be forgiven. He deserved to be forgiven for the mistakes that he had made, because even though he had made a few of them, he wasn’t beyond redemption.

Ben gripped the microphone, letting his guitar hang in front of him, and put all of his soul into the final song of their setlist. A track that he had written for his grandfather called _Save My Soul_. It was a haunting melody, slow and soft and mournful, about a little boy that was following an old man through the different stages of the little boy’s life: childhood, adolescence, adulthood, then the elder years. And at the end of the track, in the final verse, it was revealed that the little boy and the old man had been the same person the whole time. That the old man was there to show the little boy how to correct his mistakes, so that he wouldn’t repeat them.

And Ben could hardly get through it without his vocal cords feeling like they were being torn apart. But he pushed himself through the discomfort, forcing every note as if the pain was meant to be instructive.

He closed his eyes, feeling tears start to line his lashes. He tried to remember what it felt like to sit on his grandfather’s living room floor. The smell of the carpet. The wooden coffee table that was chipped on the corner. The old, vinyl record player that had a thin layer of dust on the console.A harmonica held up to his mouth while Anakin sat on the couch, smiling down at him. _That_ had all been real.

And before Ben could get through the second verse of the song, he was weeping.

His voice was coming out tattered and gravelly; his hands were trembling.

There was a guitar solo at the end, one that Ben performed alone, while the rest of the band stopped playing, followed by a final verse and a chorus that repeated, “ ** _Save my soul. Please, come back and save my soul._** ” over and over until the music stopped.

But when it was time for Ben to do the guitar solo, he could barely see through the tears. Everything seemed to hit him all at once. Losing his grandfather, then his mother. Spending so much time being angry at his father. Hurting the only woman that he had ever loved on the day that he was supposed to marry her. Missing the birth of his daughter, but not _just_ her birth, but her first words, her first steps, her first smile and laugh.

His hand slammed down on the guitar strings, sliding up and then back down, playing faster and faster, harder and harder, until the pad of his thumb split _wide open_ and blood started dripping down his fingers, across the pickguard, the controls, the whammy bar.

And even then, even while bleeding all over the front of his guitar, Ben still didn’t stop. He just kept on playing, only letting up when the solo had finally ended and the crowd had started singing the rest of the lyrics for him.

The sound of their voices echoing through the arena as he let his arms hang at his sides, blood dripping down to the ground, watching them finish out the song.

His chest heaved through a breath, shoulders rising and falling.

He glanced across the room, from side to side, then up to the rafters, listening to thousands of people sing something that _he_ had written, something that _he_ had put into the world.

And it felt good. It felt _so_ good. It felt powerful.

But it didn’t feel like the beginning of something.

It felt like the end.

—————

Rey had given up on talking to him again tonight.

It was a few minutes past eleven thirty, and even though the concert should’ve been over by now, she figured that he’d either be too exhausted to call her, or he would assume that she was already asleep, and not want to wake her.

The latter, of course, made her want to text him and let him know that she was still up, because she had something that she couldn’t _wait_ to tell him. Something that was making her belly flutter with excited, albeit nervous, energy. And she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep until she did.

But the former was making her hesitate, because she didn’t want to bother him if he was tired.

So, she rolled over on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and started drumming her fingers on her chest. She considered just texting him anyway, because Ben had told her, before he left, that she could call him whenever she wanted to, no matter what time it was. And since he had repeated it to her at least four times on the way to the airport, she knew that he was serious. She could call him, and she didn’t even need a reason.

Except, she _did_ have a reason.

She had a really good reason.

And she had no idea _why_ she was getting so worked up over something as simple as a phone call. It was just a call. She could do it. Besides, it wasn’t like she was the same, lovestruck fourteen year old that used to steal glances at him from across a crowded, high school cafeteria. Or the same girl that used to scribble his name in her notebook when he didn’t even know what hers was.

She was a lovestruck _adult._ One that had seen him naked and had brought his nine and a half pound offspring into the world.

“I’m going to call him.” Rey whispered to her ceiling before rolling over on her side.

But as soon as she rolled, her phone started vibrating on the bedside table, and she nearly fell off of her mattress trying to get to it. Her body falling head first towards the floor; her hand shooting out to catch herself. She tried to crawl back up, fumbling with the lamp, trying to turn it on, and then she picked up her phone, accepting his call.

He was FaceTiming her, which was even better, because she’d be able to see him whenever she told him.

When it connected them, she tried to play it cool. But seeing him with his hair wet, fresh from a shower, with a few drops soaking into his white t-shirt, made her heartbeat seem to pick up speed. He had his arms crossed over the desk again, inside of his hotel room, and she wondered if she would be joining him _there_ , or if he would come to _her_ hotel.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, crawling back into bed and resting against the headboard with her hand and phone propped up on her knees.

He tilted his head, biting his lip, and then grinned. “Hi back.”

She furrowed her brows, frowning. “Are you okay? You sound…”

“Hoarse. Yeah, I know.” He swallowed, feeling it burn through his throat.

“Are you usually this hoarse after a show?” She blinked.

He paused for a moment, looking sad even though he was trying to seem happy. Because he _was_ happy. Seeing her and talking to her made him happy. But then he sighed, shaking his head. “Not usually.”

“You must have been really getting into it then,” she laughed, watching him force another smile. One that she immediately knew was fake. “Ben?”

“Yeah?” He laid his chin on his hand, staring back at her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He drew in a deep breath, and then brought his hand up to his temples, running it through his hair. “I’m better now. How was your night?”

She stared at him for a minute, sensing that something was off, and then when she looked a little closer, she noticed that there was something on his neck, something that was so pixelated that she couldn’t quite tell what it was.

But the size of it covered one side of his throat in its _entirety_ , from his Adam’s apple all the way to his ear. And it looked almost black in the lighting.

“Ben, what’s on your neck?”

She could tell that the question made him tense, even through the screen. Which only made her worry that much more. Because it meant that he didn’t want to answer it.

Yet, right when she thought that he wasn’t going to, he did.

“It’s a bruise,” he swallowed hard. “Or, I guess it will be in a few more hours.”

Her mouth fell open, a sharp breath rushing in. “What do you mean, a bruise? Why do you have a bruise?”

He stared down at his keyboard, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Ben, you can tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is. I’ll help you.”

“I know,” he nodded, glancing back up at her. “But I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“I’m already worried about you!” She raised up until she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, bringing her phone even closer to her. “And you’re scaring me. So, please, just tell me what happened.”

“Snoke hit me,” he answered quickly, unable to keep anything from her.

Not even this.

“He what?”

“I don’t think he meant to hit me in the throat,” Ben continued, reaching up and rubbing the side of his neck. “But he did.”

Rey stared at him, her face frowning, her eyes slowly starting to water as she waited for him to continue. And despite how hard it was to hear, she was grateful that he was telling her. That he was communicating with her. Even when he didn't want to. Even when he thought it would be better if she _didn't_ know. Because Rey wanted to know everything. And that's exactly what Ben did. He told her everything. How Snoke had pulled him to the side after he had arrived at the arena. How he had bitched at him for nearly thirty minutes before Ben had taken all that he could. He even told her the pieces of their conversation that he could remember, and how his “FUCK YOU” had caused Snoke to snap and then punch him, as well as the pop that had come afterwards.

She didn’t even realize that she was crying until she couldn’t see him anymore. His face becoming a watery blur; her sobs coming out quiet and muffled through her fingers.

“I told Hux and Phas that I would let them take me to the hospital if I wasn’t feeling any better.” He admitted with a sigh. “And I’m not. So, we’re going to the ER in few a minutes. I just wanted to call you first, because I’m sure I’ll be there all night.”

She wiped the back of her hand beneath both eyes, then her nose. Which was useless, because the thought of him going to the emergency room, without her, made her cry even harder.

“Ben, I’m so sorry.”

He leaned towards the laptop, his face softening. “Rey, it’s okay. I’m alright.”

"I just— I was so excited to talk to you because I had something that I wanted to tell you, but now I just—I hate that I’m not there.. I want to be there with you!”

The words came out all high-pitched and so run-together that it was hard for him to catch everything that she was trying to say. But he had caught most of it. Especially the part where she wanted to be there with him.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He watched her move her hand away from her face. Her cheeks red; her lips trembling. “I’m okay.” He said simply, with just enough confidence to make her believe him. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted it to make,” she hiccuped, wiping her face again. “I wanted it to make you happy, but now you aren’t even going to want me there, because of Snoke. Because I know you. And I know that you'll try to come up with every reason why I shouldn’t come. But I was just so excited to tell you! And now it’s ruined, because you’re not going to want it!”

“Rey, sweetheart, slow down.” Ben choked out a quiet laugh, a genuine smile spreading across his face. One that she _knew_ he wasn’t faking. “You know that I love it when you ramble, but right now, I can’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

He had caught part of that, too. Just the part about wanting to make him happy, and how he would try to come up with every reason why she shouldn’t come.

Which, by the way, had never been something that he did.

After all, Ben was a gentleman.

He made sure that she _always_ came first.

“Hux got me and Rose tickets,” she sniffed hard, her face twisting into a frown. “… to your show tomorrow night. And I was so excited to tell you, because I’ve never got to see you perform, and I really want to. I want to see you up there, on stage, doing what you love. And since this is the last concert that I’d be able to go to, I thought that you might like it if I was there. I wanted to surprise you. But not like this.”

She shook her head quickly, her eyes welled with tears.

This wasn’t how she thought that this conversation would go. She thought that she would call him, and he would tell her about his show, and then she’d surprise him by letting him know that she’d be coming to the next one. Maybe even wink at him, like he always did with her.

But, instead, she ending up being an emotional mess that could barely form a coherent sentence without all of her words blending in and overlapping.

“You’re not happy at all, are you?” She whispered, frowning.

“Are you kidding?” He told her softly, his lips tugging into a small smile. “Nothing would make me happier than having you here, if that’s where you want to be.”

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” He chuckled, even though it could hardly be considered a chuckle, considering his voice was starting to give out. “I want you here.”

“But with Snoke? I mean, I know you don’t want me anywhere near him, and now I can see why, but…”

“Fuck Snoke,” he smirked. “I can keep you away from him.”

“Hux got me a hotel room too. My own one.”

“Oh really?” He raised his brow. “I’ll be sure to thank him on the way to the ER.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snoke is a dick and I hate him.
> 
> Next Up: Rey comes to the second show, and Ben has a surprise of his own. *rubs hands together*


	14. From This Moment On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes to Ben's last concert in New York, and Ben tries to make it special for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! 
> 
> This one is a lot fluffier than the last one, but it's also the calm before the storm. 
> 
> So, buckle up.
> 
> (Also, for reference to this part of the story, look back at chapter 3.)
> 
> The song for this one is "From This Moment On," by my girl Shania Twain, for subliminal reasons.

**EIGHT YEARS AGO**

They were in the parking lot behind Maz’s diner just before sundown, sitting on the tailgate of his old, beat-up Chevy K-10 that may or may not be in desperate need of a new transmission. But even though Galen had told Ben to have Rey back by dark, he wasn’t ready to take her home yet. And he had a feeling, by the wide, toothy grin on her face, that she didn’t want him to. Which was even better. Because if it was what she wanted, then Ben would gladly sit there for the rest of the night, and all day tomorrow, just to watch her smile a little bit longer.

Besides, Mr. Erso didn’t like him anyway.

So, fuck it.

Ben had bought her one of those vanilla waffle cones that had a thin layer of hardened chocolate over the scoop, with pieces of crumbled peanuts sprinkled on top. And she was devouring it like she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, despite the fact that they had _just_ finished polishing off two of Maz’s infamous roast beef Manhattans. But now that Ben had a new job, and a little bit of money in his pocket, he was eager to take her places, and buy her things… even if all she wanted was food.

“Do you like it?” She peered up at him, licking a clump of chocolate off of the corner of her mouth.

Ben watched her tongue poke out from between her lips, and gulped so hard that he nearly choked. “Hmm?”

“Your drumstick.” Rey nodded towards his hand. “Do you like it?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. It’s, um… Yeah, I like it.”

“I told you you would.” She smiled before diving in again, biting off an entire chunk and then moaning once it hit her teeth. “So good, but so cold.” She mumbled with her hand cupped under her chin.

She was getting ice cream everywhere, on her fingers, her cheeks, down the front of her sweater, but she didn’t seem to notice and Ben didn’t seem to care.

Besides, it wasn’t like he had never seen her eat before. He knew that she was messy, and he _liked_ that she was messy. Because it meant that she was comfortable with him enough to _be_ messy. And the only thing that he wanted, in the whole damn world, was for her to comfortable with him.

Well, maybe not the _only_ thing. _Happy_ was also on his list.

But considering how the two of them had been best friends for well-over two years now, and she _still_ hadn’t gotten bored of his brooding, Ben was fairy confident that he had _happy_ covered too.

He brought the drumstick up to his mouth, biting into it the same way that she had, but right as he started chewing on the crunchy bits, some sort of song started playing over the radio. One that she apparently liked. Because Ben didn’t even have time to swallow before she was nudging him in the arm.

“Oh my god!” She squealed with more glee than he knew how to handle. “Go turn it up! Go turn it up!”

“Alright, alright. Geez.”

**_Don’t wish it away._ **

**_Don’t look at it like it’s forever._ **

He hopped down from the tailgate, grinning from ear to ear, his head shaking, and then walked down the length of his truck towards the driver’s side door, licking melted ice cream around the rim of his waffle cone to keep it from dripping onto his hand. Then, he leaned into the cab, just enough to reach the volume knob, and turned it up so that she could to hear it.

**_Between you and me,_ **

**_I could honestly say,_ **

**_That things can only get better._ **

He didn’t know this song. Which was saying something, considering how music was kind of his _thing._ But she clearly _did_ know it. Because as he made his way back to her, she was singing. She was _really_ singing. And he had never heard, or seen, anything more beautiful in all of his life.

Even if she _was_ using an ice cream cone as a microphone.

“ _And I guess that’s why they call it the blues,_ ” she belted out. Her eyes closed; her hand over her heart. “ _Time. On. My. HANDS, could be time spent with you._ ”

Ben jumped back up on the tailgate, never taking his eyes off of her.

“ _Laughing like children.”_ She continued. “ _Living like lovers._ Come on, Ben! You have to know this one.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head, smirking.

“How do you NOT know this song? It’s Elton John!”

He arched his brow, “Do I look like I listen to Elton John?”

A wide grin spread across her face, making her eyes light up, followed by this infectious, little chuckle that made him smile right along with her. “You do now.”

He let out a snort, feeling his face start to flush. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He mumbled under his breath as she kept on singing.

“ _Wait on me girl. CRYYYY in the night, if it helps.”_ She swayed back and forth. “ _But more than ever,”_ She glanced over at him, her cheeks just as rosy. “ _I simply love you… more than I love… life itself._ ”

Ben stared at her in awe, his heart pounding so hard that he thought it was going to burst.

**_And I guess that’s why they call it the blues._ **

**_Time on my hands, could be time spent with you._ **

The sun was hitting her face just right, warming all of those tiny, little freckles that he loved so much. And there were times where Ben would sit and count them, just to see how many there were, but right now, something about this moment felt different. _He_ felt different. But it was a _good_ kind of different. Because she was smiling at him. And watching her smile was like watching the clouds part, giving off just enough light to make everything around him that much clearer.

But right as Ben started to wonder _why_ he was feeling so different, _that’s_ when he heard it. The harmonica. A sound that was so out of nowhere that it knocked the breath right out of him. Because Ben didn’t know this song. He didn’t know that it even _had_ a harmonica solo, or that _this_ was coming.

But once it did, once the notes started piercing through the air, it felt like his grandfather was giving him a sign.

And then it hit him. The smile on her face. The squint of her eyes. The way she made every single aspect of his life _that_ much better, just by being in it. She was the reason he felt different. She had always _been_ the reason that he felt different. And he had been so stupid for _ever_ thinking that what he felt for her was anything other than love.

“You look like you wanna kiss me,” Rey told him bluntly as she licked a drop of melted ice cream off of her bottom lip. “You can, if you want.”

Oh, he wanted to.

He _definitely_ wanted to.

But there was a problem.

Ben had never kissed anyone before, so every nerve ending in his body was suddenly firing on all cylinders, and his only saving grace was that he knew Rey had never kissed anyone either. So, if he was clueless, then so was she. But that still wasn’t helping him. Because what was he supposed to do? How was this supposed to work? Should he just lean in and go for it? Should his mouth be open? Would she _want_ his mouth to be open? What if she didn’t like it?

“I love you,” he blurted in an airy rush, needing her to know that part _before_ he kissed her, just in case he passed out right afterwards.

And once those three, little words finally registered, Rey’s eyes blew wide-open and she drew in a sharp gasp. Her excitement nearly causing her to drop her ice cream. “What? BEN!” She squalled out. “I wanted to be the one to say it fir…”

He sprung forward, trembling like a leaf, and then brought his lips down to hers, knowing that if he didn’t, then, God love her, she was going to start rambling. And even though listening to her ramble was one of his favorite pastimes, Ben knew that he _had_ to kiss her _right now_ , while he had the courage, or he would chicken out.

But, again, Ben had never kissed anyone. So, in his eagerness, their teeth _popped_ together, causing both of them to jump, then chuckle, because _of course_ , this was going to be awkward. They knew each other from top to bottom, but when it came to _this_ , they were both learning, picking up little cues, exploring what both of them had wanted, but had been too shy to reach out and take. And although it started off a little clumsy, with his nose getting in the way and her giggling, Ben wasstill _determined_ to make this good for her. _He_ could be good for her.

So, he snaked his hand around to the nape of her neck, feeling goosebumps start to rise on her skin, and then tilted his head to find a better angle. His thumb brushing against the shell of her ear; his jaw locked tight to keep from pushing her too far, or asking for too much.

He only wanted what she was willing to give him, and this was already _way_ more than enough, but apparently it wasn’t enough for _her_.

Because right when he was about to pull away, she ran her fingers up the length of his neck, stopping at his jaw, and then opened her mouth to let him in. It was wet and sloppy and hilariously unskilled, but she tasted like Heaven, if Heaven was a chocolate fountain. And somewhere between her content, little sigh and his labored breaths, Ben started wondering why the Hell he hadn’t done this sooner.

—————

**PRESENT DAY**

Ben’s thumb brushed along the length of his harmonica, admiring all of the scuffs and scratches that he’d given it over the years. It had a tiny dent on the cover plate from where he had dropped it on his grandfather’s concrete porch when he was eight, and the holes were a little bit worn, and the comb had seen better days, but as far as the sound, it still worked like a charm.

Of course, Ben had the means to afford a better one, something pricier and of higher quality that didn’t look like it had been beaten to death with a hammer, but this one was special, because it had been Anakin’s. The first harmonica that Ben had ever gotten his hands on. And because it had been Anakin’s, Ben never went anywhere without it.

It was _always_ in his pocket, whether it be in his shirt, or his jeans, or his jacket, it was always with him. And there was even a compartment on the inside of his black jumpsuit, the one that he performed in, that he kept it in while he was on stage. But even though he always had it, Ben had never played it during one of their shows, or on one of their tracks. _Not once_. Because the harmonica was something that was deeply personal to him. It was all of his best childhood memories compressed into a small piece of tattered metal. And up until today, Ben had went to great lengths to make sure that the music industry, and everything that came along with it, didn’t know that he could play it.

Because _Kylo Ren_ didn’t play the harmonica.

Ben Solo did.

And Ben refused to share that part of himself, that vulnerability, or have his heart laid bare for the whole world to see, without having a really, really good reason for it.

But, today, Ben had a reason.

“You’ve got everything sorted out, right?” He glanced up from the edge of his hotel bed, looking over at Hux. His voice hadn’t gotten any better, but it hadn’t gotten any worse either. Still hoarse and gravelly and going in and out every other word. “She’s going to be on the front row. The tickets are in Rose’s name. When the show’s over, she’ll be…”

“Escorted backstage where the four of us will meet up and then leave out the back. Yes, I have everything sorted out. He’s not going to be anywhere near her, Ben. I promise.”

“And her room is in…”

“It’s in Rose’s name too.” Hux assured him as he casually ripped open the package of a Slim Jim, tearing off a bite. “I’ve covered my bases, buddy. It’s gonna be alright. Just relax.”

“Who’s escorting her backstage?”

Hux stared at him, mouth half-open, jerky stuck to his molars, and then with a quiet huff, he gulped it down, knowing that Ben wasn’t going to stop until they had gone over every single detail. “DJ and Temiri. And before you even ask, I didn’t tell them _who_ they were escorting. Just that they needed to be escorted.”

Ben nodded, dropping his eyes back down to the harmonica. He turned it over and watched the overhead lights reflect across the metal, letting himself get lost in the glare. There were so many different things swirling around in his head, between Snoke, and the label, and the _eight_ hours that he had spent at the hospital, followed by another two hours at the police station that had been nothing more than a waste of time. Plus, Ben hadn’t had a decent nights sleep in God-knows-how-long, and he had become so worn down and out of it that he honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he _did_ sleep. So, it was a miracle that he hadn’t already passed out from exhaustion.

But, right now, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Promise me that he won’t be anywhere near her.” Ben whispered softly, causing Hux to pause mid-chew. “I know you already have. But do it again.”

“Ben, I swear to you, on my life, Snoke isn’t going to be anywhere near Rey.” Hux told him with certainty. “I wouldn’t have brought either of them here if I thought, for a second, that I couldn’t keep both of them safe. So, I’m telling you, right now, I have it covered.”

Ben let out a deep breath, his chest deflating. “Alright.”

He trusted Hux. No question. But when it came to _Rey_ , Ben wanted to take every precaution. Obviously, he wanted her to be there. And his mind was already churning with ideas on how to make it special for her. But there was also this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite shake.

“Did you tell her about last night?” Hux studied him closely, taking in all of his mannerisms. He could tell that Ben was in his own little world. Which was understandable, all things considered. “About the police?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I told her.”

“What’d she say?”

“Pretty much the same thing you did. Just not quite as colorful.”

Hux blew out a snort, raising his eyebrows. “I thought I handled it well.”

“You told one of New York’s finest to suck your dick, _and_ my dick.” Ben cut his eyes around. “I’m not sure if that’s what you’d call _handling it well._ ”

“You have a fractured larynx!” Hux countered quickly. His face drawn into a frown. “Yet, somehow, _that_ wasn’t enough to charge Snoke with assault? A fractured fucking larynx?”

“It’s a minor fracture, and there were no witnesses.”

Hux leaned forward, “I don’t give a fuck”

“Yeah, well, neither did the police.” Ben shrugged, throwing out his hands. “It’s my word against his.”

“Look at your fucking throat, Ben!” Hux pointed at the dark purple bruise that all-but covered one side of his neck. “I don’t think his word means shit at this point.”

“What else do you want me to do?” Ben stared at him, looking as stoic as ever. “I went to the hospital. I went to the police. I even tried to reach out to the label, despite _knowing_ that they weren’t going to do anything! So, what more do you want me to do?”

There wasn’t really anything that he _could_ do. Nothing that he hadn’t done already. No one had seen Snoke hit him; therefore, Ben couldn’t prove it. So, despite him having obvious laryngeal trauma, along with copies of his paperwork from the hospital stating that he had a minor fracture in his larynx, the police still claimed that there wasn’t a case. They had filed a report, and offered to let Ben request a restraining order due to safety concerns, but they weren’t going to arrest Snoke without a witness.

The only good thing that had come out of the whole night, and early morning, other than talking to Rey, was that Ben wasn’t going to have to have surgery. The ER doctor had given him a steroid shot, prescribed him some antibiotics, and told him to rest his voice, which clearly wasn’t going to happen, considering he had another show in a few hours.

It would be different if he wasn’t already at the top of the label’s shit list. But Ben knew that if he cancelled this concert, then a hoarse voice was going to be the least of his worries. He just needed to get through this one, and then he would have a whole week to rest before they closed out the tour in LA.

Besides, Ben had another plan.

One that he absolutely _did_ come up with in the last twenty-four hours.

And he was going to see it through, even if it took everything that he had in him to do it.

He turned the harmonica over, letting it move through his fingers, and then stood to his feet, leaving a dent in the mattress from where he had been sitting. “If I asked you for a favor, would you do it?”

Hux arched his brow as he devoured the rest of the Slim Jim, licking the grease off of his lips. “Well, we’ve been friends for nineteen years, and I haven’t said no yet.”

Ben let out an airy laugh. “It’s important. I need you to learn a song before tonight.”

“Before tonight?” Hux furrowed his brows. “Are you changing the setlist?”

“No,” he shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he put the harmonica back into his pocket. “Just adding something to it.”

—————

Rey was in her hotel room curling her hair when she heard a knock on the door. And at first, she thought that it might be Rose, because she was right down the hall, and they were supposed to finish getting ready together in Rey's room, after Rose took a shower. But the knock was more of a polite tap, rather than a full-on _bang_ , so it was definitely someone else.

She put her curling iron on the vanity, positioning it so that it wouldn’t burn the counter top, and then walked out of the bathroom, tying her robe a little tighter around her chest.

“Room service!”

Rey froze halfway to the door, looking a little puzzled, because she definitely didn’t order room service. Not in a place where a burger and fries costed well-over thirty dollars. But when she peered one eye through the peephole, she saw a young man in a maroon suit standing out in the hallway, holding a bouquet of white daisies _,_ and as soon as she saw the flowers, Rey immediately went for the door handle. Swinging it open.

“Hi!” She smiled, ignoring the fact that only half of her hair was finished. “Are you, um…” She swallowed her excitement, feeling her heart start to race. “Are you sure you’re at the right room?”

“Are you Rey?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Then, I’m at the right room.” He grinned back before motioning towards a service cart that she hadn’t even seen at first. “May I?”

“Oh! Of course. Sorry!” She took a step back, opening the door a little wider, and then watched as he pushed the cart into the room with one hand.

“Would you like for me to put the these in water for you, Miss?”

“No, that’s — that’s okay. I can do it.” She bit her lip, reaching for the daisies. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” The young steward nodded as he turned to the cart and picked up a tray, leaving the food covered, and then placed it onto a nearby table, along with an empty vase for the flowers. Once he was done, he faced her with his hands behind his back. “Will that be all, Miss?”

“I — I guess?” She squinted awkwardly, forcing a nervous laugh. “Um, wait, let me get you a tip.”

“Please, that won’t be necessary. Gratuity was included.”

“Of course it was,” she snorted as she sniffed her flowers, letting the sweet scent soothe her senses. “Was there a card or a note with these?”

“I’m afraid not.” He looked almost apologetic. “I was only instructed to have them delivered immediately. But if you’d like to know who sent them, then I’d be glad to ask the receptionist if any contact information was left at the front desk.”

She pressed her lips together, grinning. “It’s okay. I know who sent them, but thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he bowed. Literally _bowed_. “If you need anything else, please let us know.”

Rey nodded, watching him push the cart back towards the door.

Once he was gone, she took a minute to admire her bouquet. Brushing her fingertips along the petals and feeling how soft they were. Bringing them back to her nose to smell them again. Her eyes closed; her mouth curved into a knowing smile.

But after that minute was up, her curiosity began to get the best of her.

She glanced over at the table, eyeing the stainless steel lid with a squint. Then, once the anticipation became too much, she walked over and reached down to the handle, lifting it off of the plate.

“Oh, Ben.”

She choked out a quiet breath, feeling her eyes begin to water, and then she sat the lid down on the table, along with the flowers, before picking up a drumstick, still in the packaging. There was no way that a place as fancy as this one would have a drumstick, of all things, on their menu. Which meant that Ben must have gone out of his way just to get her one. And that thought alone was so endearing that she started sobbing. Because Rey hadn’t eaten one of these in _years_. Hadn’t even thought about them. But now, she couldn’t _stop_ thinking about them. About how she had been eating one of these the first time he had ever kissed her. The first time he ever told her he _loved_ her.

Was that was he was doing?

Was he telling her that he loved her?

She peeled off the wrapper, a teary smile on her face, and then took a bite — noticing how the sweetness of the chocolate mixed in with the saltiness of the peanuts. It was like tasting a memory. A really, really good memory. And if she focused hard enough, she could still see the two of them, as clear as day, sitting on the back of that old, rusty tailgate. The sun in her eyes; Elton John playing in the background. His hands shaking as he reached over to cup her cheek.

“ _I simply love you, more than I love_ ,” Rey sung softly. “ _Life itself._ ”

—————

Ben zipped up the front of his jumpsuit, then rolled his shoulders, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his neck. He had let his voice rest for most of the day, so that he could at least _pretend_ that he had followed the doctor’s orders, but he was still in no shape to get on stage. The strain was just going to make things worse, and he’d be lucky if he could even speak by the end of the show, but he was too stubborn to admit that he didn’t want to go out there, or that he was hurting. Because he didn’t want Snoke to think that he had won.

So, Ben suited up, donning all-black, with his mask in his hand, and reminded himself that Rey was going to be here. She was _already_ here. She had come to see him.

And in the wise words of Metallica, nothing else mattered.

Not even fucking Snoke.

“You talked to Jones, right?” Ben turned around, looking at Hux. “We’re good on audio?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Everything’s all set.” He nodded, twirling a drumstick in his hand. The non-edible kind. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I told him what we we’re playing.”

Phasma snorted from across the room, “He thought we were joking.”

“I mean, you couldn’t serenade her with Clapton? Or Dylan? Or, Hell, even Springsteen?” Hux teased him. “It _has_ to be this?”

“Yeah,” Ben said with smirk. “It has to be this.”

—————

Rey ran her hand along the metal barricade, listening to thousands of people scream out a name that wasn’t his. There was a girl standing next to her with his face on the front of her shirt, and another one behind her that kept talking about how _Kylo Ren_ was too good-looking to wear a mask. Or that _Kylo Ren_ probably had a dick the size of a ripe banana.

“You alright?” Rose leaned over, holding a clear, plastic cup full of beer.

Rey brought hers up to her mouth, chugging several gulps, before letting out a breathless sigh. “Yeap.”

“He loves _you_.” Rose nudged her. “Not them.”

“I know.” She tightened her jaw. “Still doesn’t mean that I don’t want to pull her hair out.”

“Ooo, feisty.” Rose wiggled her eyebrows.

“And for the record, bananas are curved.” Rey said as she took another drink.

She didn’t know where all of this possessiveness had come from, or why she felt the sudden urge to rush the stage, grab the microphone, and announce to all of these fish-net wearing jezebels that his name was _Ben_ , and that he was _hers._

Yet, that was exactly what she wanted to do.

She wanted them to know that they couldn’t have him anymore, and that they had never really _had_ him to begin with. Because even though they may know his music, or this _Kylo Ren_ role that he was playing — they didn’t know _Ben_. They didn’t know that he was ticklish on the inside of his thighs, or that he had cried like a baby whenever John Coffey died in _The Green Mile,_ or that he could devour a peanut butter & jelly sandwich in two bites.

They didn’t know him.

They didn’t know anything about him.

Not like she did.

And when the lights went out, and The Knights of Ren took the stage, Rey realized that she didn’t care if the crowd was screaming the wrong name, or that there were women beside her, and behind her, that wanted to fuck him into oblivion. Because when Ben walked up to the microphone, and a row of fire shot up from the stage, sending a cloud of smoke spiraling towards the rafters, the first thing that he did, before he started singing, was look for her.

Not them.

Not even Anakin.

 _Her_.

And she knew the minute that he found her, because his whole body seemed to relaxed. The tightness in his shoulders, and in his muscles, weren’t as stiff. His lips, through the opening of his mask, curved into a smile. And when his fingers slammed down on the strings of his guitar, she would’ve _sworn_ that she saw him wink.

“Oh, he’s in love with you.” Rose let out a barking laugh.

“WHAT?” Rey yelled back, unable to hear her over the speakers.

She cupped her hand around her mouth, “I SAID, HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

Rey nodded, feeling her body start to fall into rhythm with the music. “I KNOW!”

She smiled up at him, watching the way that he gripped the microphone when he wasn’t playing a chord, or how he cocked his head to the side when he was trying to reach a note that was a little higher than his voice wanted to allow. But her smile quickly faded once the lights in the arena brightened and she could finally see the bruise on his neck.

It was a lot darker and wider than she realized — nearly covering one side of his throat — and she tried not to let it overwhelm her, because she wanted to enjoy the show. And she _was_ enjoying it. She loved hearing him play the guitar, making it practically scream through the speakers, creating a run of riffs that were beautiful, yet somehow haunting, like a fresh bouquet of flowers left in a graveyard. But she didn’t like seeing him in pain. And she _knew_ that he was in pain. He had to be. Because no one could sing like that, with a minor fracture on their larynx, without being in some sort of pain.

Yet, he kept on going. Never letting up. And it made her wonder if Ben was _that_ determined to perform, or if he was doing this to punish himself.

“Are you enjoying the fucking show?” He called out to the audience, taking a bottle of water from one of the crew guys below the stage. He twisted off the top, taking a sip. His eyes squeezing as he swallowed.

The crowd answered him with an ear-splitting wail, one that seemed to roll like a wave through the arena, but Rey could tell from Ben’s body language that he wasn’t enjoying _anything_ right now. He kept leaning back from the microphone, bowing his head to one side, and coughing into his shoulder, and he looked so tired that he almost seemed lethargic. Like he could barely stand, or hold his eyes open.

“Something’s wrong,” Rey looked over at Rose. Her face full of panic.

“WHAT?”

“I SAID, SOMETHING’S WRONG.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

Rey jerked her gaze back to Ben, listening to him introduce the next song like it didn’t even matter to him. He tossed the water bottle to the side, causing droplets to scatter as it spilled out from the top, and then he adjusted his earpiece, securing it to his ear.

He didn’t need to do this.

He didn’t need to be up there.

“BEN!” Rey leaned against the barrier, knowing that she shouldn’t say his name. Not here. But she _refused_ to say that other one. “BEN!”

His eyes shot down to her, somehow hearing it over the music.

“Please, stop.” She mouthed to him. Her eyes starting to water.

He didn’t understand what she was saying, because his eyes squinted. And she knew, despite the mask, that his brows were probably furrowed. But all she could do was hope that the concert was close to being over. Because even if it was a damn good performance, with music so loud that she could feel it beating in her chest, or lights that strobed across the arena causing the crowd to go even wilder, Rey didn’t want Ben to lose his voice. And she knew that if he didn’t stop, then he was going to.

She listened to the fans sing along with him, their cellphones raised in the air, swaying from side to side. And she knew that this was the last song of the night, because the girl next to her had shouted it to her friend. But when Ben started playing a guitar solo, on his own, while the rest of the band stopped playing, Rey let all of her worries, and fears, and panic subside, just long enough to watch him. To admire the way the guitar looked in his arms, or how beautiful the melody was. There was no question that he had written this one about himself, and about his grandfather, but she wondered if anyone else in the room knew that too. Or if it was just her.

Then again, she didn’t have to wonder.

Because there were parts of Ben Solo that the rest of the world didn’t get to see. Parts of him that had only ever been reserved for _her._ And she knew, with everything in her, that five years, and a whole string of mistakes, hadn’t changed any of that.

Once the song had ended and the noise had died down to a steady hum, she thought that he was finished. Because three of the Knights had waved to the crowd and then walked off the stage. But Ben and Hux and a tall woman in a gas mask stayed behind. And Rey wasn’t sure if _this_ was part of their encore, or if what they had just performed _was_ the encore.

But as Ben removed his guitar strap off of his shoulder, passing the instrument off to one of the crew guys, he did something that he, apparently, had never done before.

He took off his mask.

It dropped to the ground, landing in a heap, and the crowd, including the girl behind her, went absolutely _mad_. This evidently wasn’t a part of the show at all, and Rey wasn’t quite sure what he was doing when he walked back up to the microphone. But then he looked down at her. His hair falling over his eyes in wet strands; his skin glistening from sweat. And she narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“What are you doing?” She mouthed to him.

His lips curved into a smirk. That was all he’d given her. And as the girl in the gas mask started to play her chrome-plated, electric guitar, strumming a song that was oddly familiar, if a little bit altered, Ben grabbed the microphone and removed it from the stand.

“ _Don’t wish it away. Don’t look at it like it’s forever_ ,” He paced over until he was standing directly in front of where Rey was, and then he got down on both knees. “ _Between you and me, I could honestly say, that things can only get better_.”

Rey couldn’t stop the tears from welling. Her mouth falling open.

“ _And while I’m away, dust out the demons inside_.” He continued to sing, tilting his head. “ _And it won’t be long, before you and me run, to the place in our hearts, where we hide._ ”

He was really doing this, right here, right now, in front of the entire arena, and Rey didn’t know if she wanted to cry, or laugh, or climb up on the stage and kiss him senselessly. Because every bit of this was specifically catered for her — between his bandmates playing along with him, to the fact that he was down on his knees, getting as close to her as the stage would allow — this was all for her. And she could tell, by the way that he was looking at her, with so much love and longing and adoration, that he waited a long time to be able to do this.

“ _And I guess that’s why they call it the blues.”_ He smiled at her. His dimples deepening. “Time _on my hands, could be time spend with you.”_

“WHAT IS HE DOING?” Rose shouted. “IS THIS ELTON JOHN?”

Rey let out a whimper, one that was closely akin to a laugh, and then she nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“HE LISTENS TO ELTON JOHN?”

Rey bit her lip, smiling back at him. “He does now.”

He stood to his feet and began to walk back over towards the microphone stand, finishing the chorus and starting the next verse, taking his time with every word while Hux and Phasma played in the background. “ _Just stare into space. Picture my face in your hands. — Live for each second, without hesitation, and never forget I’m your man_.”

Rey wiped the tears off of her face, unable to stop smiling as Ben reached up and unzipped the front of his jumpsuit. He had on a black shirt underneath it that was wet and sticking to him, and she thought, for a second, that he was just trying to cool off, but then he reached into the front pocket.

“ _Wait on me girl, CRY in the night, if it helps_.” He belted out as he pulled out his harmonica. “ _But more than ever,”_ He looked over at Rey again, finding her in the crowd, another smile pulling at his lips. Making sure she heard this part. “ _I simply love you — more than I love — life itself._ ”

When the chorus was over, and it was time for the harmonica solo, he brought the instrument up to his lips, stepping close the mic so that it would pick up the sound. And then with a deep breath, and a quick glance towards the ceiling, as if he were silently hoping that his grandfather was up there, watching him — Ben started playing.

His head moving back and forth, controlling the notes. His eyes clamped shut.

The chords echoed through the speakers with so much open vulnerability that Rey couldn’t help but feel the hairs on her arms begin to stand. Because she knew, better than anyone, that _this_ wasn’t Kylo Ren laying himself bare for the whole world to see, or for _her_ to see. This was Ben Solo. This was the man that she had decided, at fourteen years old, that she was going to spend the rest of her life with. The man that she had fought for, and waited for, and had _chosen_ over and over and over again, because she knew that what she felt for him was something that most people wasted their entire lives trying to find.

A real and honest love.

One that would never be perfect.

But a love that was _theirs._

“I forgive you,” Rey whispered. Her face shifting into a watery smile.

He couldn’t hear her. She knew that. But as soon as soon as this was over, and she was able to get to him, that was the first thing that she was going to tell him. That she was ready to forgive him. And not because she was suddenly okay with everything that he had done, or that she was pretending like the last five years never happened, because they _had._ She knew that they had. And because of that, there would always be a gap in their story, time that they had lost.

But that didn’t mean that she didn’t _need_ or _want_ the rest of it.

Because she did. 

She wanted all of the time that they had left.

And from this moment on, she was going to take every last second of it. 

“I love you,” she mouthed to him after the song had ended and the music had stopped — watching his whole face seem to light up when he realized what she had said.

“I know.”

—————

When the show was finally over and the crowd had started to disperse, two security guards came over to where Rey and Rose were standing. One of them was young, probably in his early twenties, with light brown hair and a boyish face. The other one was much older, with wrinkles around his eyes and a very prominent stutter. And after checking their passes, confirming that they had found the right girls, the older one offered to help them climb over the barricade.

“N-N-Need a lift.” DJ held out his hand.

Rey was tall enough to manage it on her own, but Rose, however, definitely needed some assistance. But once they were over it, with both feet planted back on the ground, they followed the two men through a hoard of scurrying sound people and other crew members that had already begun to clear off the stage.

She and Rose had been given strict instructions to stay with DJ and Temiri near the far exits. A place that was mostly for loading and unloading the stage equipment, but had a few side-doors that lead out into back side of the building. And even though Rey was eager to see Ben, she knew that he wanted her to wait for him there, rather than risk running into Snoke. So, she waited. Her body coursing with so much excitement that she couldn't stand still; her stomach fluttering with more butterflies than she could keep up with.

“Armie just texted me,” Rose announced as she typed into her phone. “They’re changing. So, it shouldn’t be long.”

Rey nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, and then let her eyes drift over the area. There was a row of booths in the distance, with people taking everything down and packing up for the night, and she had counted at least twenty security guards in the few minutes that they had been there. Some standing around, monitoring the flow of traffic. Others patrolling through the hallway, disappearing into the crowd.

Rey raised up on her tippy toes, trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of Ben in amongst them, because he was so tall that she knew he’d be easy to spot. But every time she thought that someone might be him, it wasn’t.

And before she knew it, another ten minutes had passed.

She picked up her phone, checking to see if he had texted her, but the last one that she had received from him was right before the show, whenever she was thanking him for the flowers and her drumstick.

She typed out a quick message, asking him where he was, and waited for a reply, hoping that the little bubbles would appear.

But they didn’t.

“Has Hux texted you again?” Rey turned to Rose. A worried look on her face.

Rose checked her phone, then shook her head.

Rey drew in a sharp breath and swung back around, noticing that the steady noise backstage had begun to get a little louder, as if everyone in the building had went from whispering to shouting. Then, she heard someone call in on DJ and Temiri's two-way radios, but they were speaking in codes, so she had no idea what they were saying, or what was going on, or why seven or eight other security guards took _running_ off through the hall.

Something wasn’t right.

She quickly looked back down at her phone and went straight to their messages, typing out “ _Please text me back_ ” and hitting send. She didn’t know why she was panicking, because Ben would be here. He would _never_ do this to her again. He would never leave her like this again.

But when she looked up, she saw Hux racing towards them. _Alone_. His face blood red; his chest heaving through breath after breath after breath, as if he had just sprinted ten miles without stopping.

“We have… to go.” He panted, glancing over at DJ and Temiri, then the exit doors, before finally settling on Rey. “Please. Now. I have to get both of you out of here."

Rey felt her heart sink to her stomach, making the butterflies scatter. The color draining from her face until she had gone completely pale.

“Armie, where is _Ben_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who absolutely hates cliffhangers, I just want to go ahead and apologize. 
> 
> Next Up: Angst City
> 
> I'M SO SORRY.


	15. Can You Feel My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Ben?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of (maybe) three or four other chapters, but I wanted to go ahead and post this first part, because, believe me, I hate cliffhangers just as much as you do. 
> 
> The song for the chapter is "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon.

Ben knew that it wouldn’t take long for security to bring Rey to the back exits, and he didn’t want her waiting there, out in the open, for any longer than she had to. So, as soon as one of the sound guys had finished unhooking him from his in-ear monitor, Ben took off like a bat out of Hell — _racing_ to get to her.

Hux wasn’t too far behind him, undressing mid-run, while simultaneously sending a quick text to Rose, letting her know that they were changing and would be there soon. Which wasn’t a lie. Because both of them were halfway out of their jumpsuits before they ever made it to the dressing room.

Ben had his clothes already laid out and waiting for him by his duffle bag: a plain, white t-shirt, dark jeans, a clean pair of socks and underwear, black, Converse sneakers. And despite nearly tripping over his own feet, he managed to put all of it on in record time, before grabbing a stick of deodorant.

A shower certainly would’ve been nice. But a shower would take up time, and when it came to spending that time with Rey, Ben wasn’t willing to spare a single second. So, he rubbed on enough deodorant to cover up the funk, then added a shit ton of cologne just in case it didn’t. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he was expecting to sleep with her.

Ben just wanted to see her, and talk to her, and take her to this little, Italian bistro that Hux had found online last night at the hospital, while they were waiting for the results of his CT scan. But, however, if by some unforeseen miracle, Rey wanted him to hold her, or hug her, or just sit next to her in a fucking booth, then Ben would rather not smell like a gym locker when he did.

“Did you tell them that we had to change first?” Ben asked as he shoved his dirty clothes into the duffle bag. “That we might be a minute?”

There was just enough panic in his voice to make Hux look up at him.

“Yeah, I sent Rose a text. She wrote back _K._ ”

Ben let out a deep breath, his cheeks puffed, before zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He hadn’t even bothered tying his own shoes, or taking just a fraction of a second to run a comb through his hair, because Rey was probably already there by now. So, they needed to _go_. Yet, fucking Hux was making some sort of damn Boy Scout knot with his shoelaces.

“What do you think _K_ means?” He squinted up at Ben, his nose scrunched in thought. “You think that’s good or bad?”

Ben cut his eyes around, grimacing. “What?”

“Replying with just a _K_.” Hux stood up and grabbed his things. “You think she’s mad at me? Or am I overthinking it?”

Ben stared at him, one hand on the doorknob, the look on his face almost comical. “It means okay. As in, fucking, _alright_. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“THEN, WHY DIDN’T SHE JUST PUT THAT?”

Ben shook his head, sighing lightheartedly, and then opened the door.

They didn’t stop to say anything to the rest of the Knights as they passed back through the dressing room. Only Phasma, briefly, who once again reminded them that she had no desire to be their fifth wheel — no matter how hard Hux tried to sell that little, Italian bistro they were going to. She didn’t want any part of it. Claiming that after the night they had at the hospital, then at the police station, plus the concert, with only an hour of sleep somewhere in between, she was _taking her ass back to the hotel and going to bed._

Her exact words.

Not that Ben could really blame her.

He hadn’t slept a full night in three days, so at this point, it was a miracle that he was even _here_. And as much as he would love to lay down, his head smooshed into one of those ridiculously, soft hotel pillows, he didn’t love it enough, or want it enough, to miss the chance to see Rey.

As he and Hux left the dressing room, Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket, bringing up his inbox and finding their conversation. He started to type out a message while they walked, telling her that he was on his way now, and that he couldn’t wait to see her. But before his thumb could hit send, he heard Snoke calling out to him. His voice carrying in a stark yell.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ben grumbled under his breath, glancing over at Hux.

“Just keep walking.”

Obviously, that was what he _wanted_ to do. He _wanted_ to keep going. And he _should’ve_ kept going. But Ben was afraid that if he did, then Snoke would just follow him. And if he followed him, then he would end up leading him right to Rey.

“I can’t,” Ben whispered, shaking his head. “ _Fuck.”_

He came to a slowed stop, putting his phone back in his pocket without sending the message, his chest heaving through a breath, trying to stay calm. And then he turned around, standing in the dead center of the hallway. Snoke was heading towards him, all hard steps and swinging arms, with three, good-sized bodyguards that looked like they were ex-military. Not the usual guys, Ben noticed. These were new. Freshly hired.

“Where the _fuck_ do you think you’re going?” Snoke all-but snarled.

There was an obvious flicker of distrust in his voice, but that didn’t stop Ben from being a smartass.

“Why?” He answered flatly. “You worried that I’m going to run off again?”

His father would be proud.

“Don’t patronize me,” Snoke fired back in warning. “I asked you a question.”

“And I’m not fucking answering it.”

Snoke let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Is that how you think this works? That you get to have a choice?” He stepped forward, and when his guards started to follow, he held up his hand, waving them back. “After what you did, you don’t get to decide _anything_ , least of all where you go.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, huffing out a scoff. “Is that why you’ve brought your lackeys?”

“These _men_ will be taking you back to the hotel and making sure that you stay there until our flight leaves tomorrow.” Snoke informed him with a glare. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you could be trusted. But you have proven, time and time again, that you can’t be. So, this is where we are.”

Ben cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows. “If you think, for a fucking second, that I’m going _anywhere_ with them, then you’re out of your damn mind.”

Snoke eased closer, his head tilting. “Well, you’ve certainly gotten bolder.” He said as his eyes drifted down to the bruise on Ben’s neck. “But I distinctly remember telling you that I would make your life a living Hell.”

Ben’s lips curved into a hint of a smirk, “No, you won’t.”

Snoke tutted darkly. His eyes sharp. “You’re trying to call my bluff. But you haven’t seen what I have in my hand. And, believe me, it’s to _die_ for.”

Ben came forward, towering over him.

His expression as dead as a grave.

“I don’t give a fuck about what’s in your hand.” He said in a low whisper. “Your little power trip doesn’t work on me anymore. So, you can take whatever it is that you think that you have… and shove it up your ass.”

Oh, Han would _definitely_ be proud.

Ben gave him a once-over, his eyes burning hotter than a blowtorch, and then he turned on his heels, making a God’s honest attempt to walk away. Not just because he was sick of Snoke’s bullshit, but because he was trying _hard_ to be a better person. For Rey. For Ani. For _himself._ And he knew that if he stayed there and listened to him any longer, then he was going to throw him through a fucking table.

But Ben didn’t take three steps, if that, before Snoke was calling out to him again.

And this time, Ben didn’t just stop.

He _froze_.

“I take it she died?”

It pierced through him like a knife, causing his whole body to immediately lock up. And, at first, he wanted to believe that he had misheard him. Because the hallway was relatively noisy, with people standing here and there, pretending like they weren’t paying attention, or that they weren’t listening. So, it would’ve been easy to misunderstand him.

But when Ben _slowly_ turned back around, Snoke was smirking.

“Your mother,” the bastard clarified, arching a brow. “Did she finally die?”

The hallway suddenly fell silent, becoming so still and so quiet that it sounded like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. And for what felt like an eternity, no one moved, or spoke, or blinked. Not even Ben — who was so shell-shocked that his mind hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of him yet.

But the _second_ it did, he was moving.

Hux tried to grab him. Because he knew that, right now, Ben’s emotions were spiraling out of control, and not a single one of them was stable. Which meant that he wasn’t thinking clearly, or _at all_. But when he reached down, latching onto the crook of Ben’s elbow, he jerked away from him. His eyes trained on Snoke. His duffle bag hitting the ground with a hollow _thump_ _._

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“Well, I mean, I knew it was only a matter of time.” Snoke flattened his lips, shrugging casually. “But I’ll admit, she lasted a lot longer than I thought she would, given her condition. How long was it anyway? Two years? Give or take?”

Every bone in Ben’s body suddenly clenched so hard that it was a wonder that they didn’t shatter. And right on the surface of his anger was this paper-thin layer of shock. Yet, somehow, despite his blood turning to fire, he managed to stay passably calm.

“You _knew_?” He whispered.

It was more of a realization than a question.

Because why else would he say something so horrible, or so cruel, if he didn’t?

“Of course I knew.” Snoke admittedly openly, clearly _proud_ of it. “I knew from the very beginning. All of her hospital visits. The treatments. The moment that it became terminal. I knew _everything_.”

Ben choked out a shuddering breath, more of a wheeze. His face sinking.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised.” Snoke pressed on, studying him. “Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t keep an eye on your little family? That I wouldn’t make sure that they didn’t cause me any trouble? It was bad enough that you wouldn’t stop _whining_ about wanting to go back to them. I couldn’t very well give you a reason to.”

There were tears in Ben’s eyes. But they didn’t fall. They just lingered along the surface of his irises, making them shine.

“You knew that my mother was _dying_ ,” his hoarse voice came out slow and tired, almost inaudible. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Snoke squinted. “I control everything around you. What you see. What you hear. What you know. A thought wouldn’t even pass through your head if I didn’t put it there. So, if you honestly think that I would _ever_ let your fucking family get in the way of _my_ future, then you’re just as blind as you are ignorant.”

“SHE WAS MY FUCKING MOTHER!” Ben finally snapped. His hands balled into two, tight fists just to keep them from shaking. “She was my mother.”

“And if I remember correctly, you never wanted to see her again.” Snoke challenged him, leaning forward, and then whispered, “ _So, I guess you got your wish_.”

“ENOUGH!” Hux immediately cried out, his voice carrying in an echo. “That’s enough. Ben, we’re leaving. Let’s go.”

He knew that he had to get him out of there, because it was obvious, by the look on Ben’s face, that he wanted to kill him.

But when he tried to pull on his arm, it was like trying to move the building. 

“I bet you give a fuck about what’s in my hand _now_ , don’t you?” Snoke told him smugly. His mouth curving into a grin. “I told you not to call my bluff. But you were too arrogant to listen.”

“Ben, he's fucking baiting you.” Hux murmured through gritted teeth. “WALK AWAY.”

“You thought that I didn’t know about your little trip home.” Snoke raised his brow. “But I knew exactly where you were going before you had even gotten there. I’ve just been waiting to see if it was going to be a problem. And I have to say, I didn’t think that it would be.” He eased over to him, testing how far he could push him, thinking that he wouldn’t do anything with so many witnesses around. Then again, maybe that was _exactly_ what he wanted. “You’re so fucking self-deprecating that I figured you’d be back here before your mother was even in the ground. So, you can only imagine my surprise when you weren’t.”

Ben stared down at him, drawing in one hard breath after the other, willing his body to remain still and unmoved.

“But I can’t help but wonder what made you so hellbent on staying.” Snoke eyed him, jutting his chin out. His expression lazy and bored, yet equally deceitful. “No matter how many times I go over it, that’s the one question that I can’t seem to find an answer to. So, tell me, what was it that made you want to stay in that fucking pisshole of a town? Was it that gold-digging bitch that you used to stick your cock in? Or was it the little _bastard_ that you found out you’d abandoned?”

In a split second, a flash of lightning, all of the rage and anguish and misery that Ben had spent the last several years passing off as impassiveness suddenly _cracked_ across his consciousness like a whip. And before he even realized what he was doing, his arm had drawn back, his whole body pivoting, and while Snoke was asking him if he was positive that Ani was even _his_ , Ben swung as hard as he could and punched him in the face. His fist landing high on his cheek, beneath his eye, causing the bone to _pop_ and his skin to split open.

Snoke swayed backwards, all loose and limber, with his body teetering around like some drunk stumbling out of a bar. His eyes on the verge of glassy. No doubt seeing a few stars. Hopefully a whole galaxy. Then, when his legs finally buckled, he hit the ground. Trying to roll over onto his side. Grunting out a guttural moan towards the ceiling.

Ben, who at this point had gone completely feral, tried to get to him, but two of the three bodyguards were quick to stop him. A hand reaching out, latching onto his neck, before both of them, together, lifted him up and then body-slammed him onto the floor. The back of his head bouncing off the concrete; the hand around his throat squeezing just enough to knock the breath out of him, before turning him over onto his stomach and fighting to restrain his arms.

Ben fought, tooth and nail, to get out of their hold, using his core strength to push himself up, only to have a knee press onto his spine. One of guards had him by the back of the head, pushing his cheek down onto the concrete, while another called out to their partner, checking to see if Snoke was alright.

Unfortunately, he was, despite being a little dazed.

But the next few moments happened in a hazy rush.

Hux sprang forward, trying to get to Ben. The third guard, who had been assisting Snoke, jumped up and blocked his path, shoving him in the chest and warning him to stay back. Ben stopped struggling to get out of their hold, knowing that there was no use. And as he wheezed out a hard breath, his eyes parallel to the floor, he looked over and saw four police officers from the NYPD running towards them from the far end of the hallway, followed by several security guards from the venue.

“Well, that’s fucking convenient,” Ben huffed out a resigned sigh.

Once they saw that the police were coming, Snoke’s two bodyguards hauled him up to his feet, releasing him with a shove. His body staggering to find his balance. His chest heaving through a series of labored breaths. He ran a hand through his hair, moving it out of his eyes, and then glanced over at Hux, giving him an all-too-familiar look. One that Hux quickly shook his head at.

He knew what Ben wanted him to do, or expected him to do. Because after nineteen years of friendship, neither of them had to be told what the other one wanted, or needed. They just had to look at each other, and it was all _right there_ , in the eyes.

But they had always said, when they were kids, that if one of them ever ended up in jail, then the other would more than likely be sitting in the cell beside them

So, if Ben was about to get arrested, then so was he.

“You go, I go. Remember?”

A hint of a smirk tugged on Ben’s lips, so small that it was barely there. His head slowly shaking back and forth. “Not this time.”

Hux twisted his face into a sad frown, jerking his head towards the officers, noticing that they were about twenty feet a way, give or take. There wasn’t any time to argue with Ben, or to decide whether he should stay or run. And with Ben staring at him, almost like he was silently asking him, no _begging_ him, for this one, little favor, Hux let out a deep, defeated groan, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to refuse it.

“Why couldn’t you have just kept walking?!” He chided under his breath as he reached down and grabbed the straps on Ben’s duffle bag.

Then, Hux gave him one last look, wanting him to know that under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have left him, and that he hated the thought of leaving him _now._ But he understood that Rey was more important to Ben. That keeping her _safe_ was more important. So, when Ben nodded, Hux took off in the opposite direction, disappearing through the crowd.

Ben shifted his feet, glancing around the hallway, his chest rising and then falling through a hard sigh, and then he looked on as two of New York’s finest, as well as a few security guards, bent down to check on Snoke. And even though that son of a bitch was obviously _fine,_ except for a cut on his cheek and a partially swollen eye, Ben knew that he was one of those people that would show up to a courtroom in a neck brace, just to get the judge’s sympathy.

Ben scoffed, rubbing his hand along his throat, as the two other officers began taking statements from _the three fucking stooges_ , listening to them recall what had happened and how the incident had started. Ben only caught pieces of what they were saying, but he noticed all of the pointing, the stares, the officers bobbing their heads, calling it in over their radios, so he had a feeling that Moe, Larry, and Curly weren’t singing his praises.

Then, after a minute or two, a cop walked over to him, the last name _Djarin_ printed on his name patch, and then he reached down to his belt to unhook a pair of handcuffs.

“Kylo Ren, you are under arrest for assault and battery.” Officer Djarin took him by the wrist, fastening the cuffs in a series of sharp _clicks_ , before coming around behind him and taking the other one. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

Ben raked his tongue over the front of his teeth, keeping his mouth shut, as Officer Djarin patted him down, looking for weapons that he obviously didn’t have. All he had on him was his phone, his driver’s license, a couple of crumpled bills, some loose change, and a dented harmonica. Which was immediately passed off, one by one, to Officer Djarin’s partner, an older man somewhere in his fifties with the last name _Child_.

Officer Child dropped them into a clear, plastic bag as if they were contraband — keeping the license out, examining it, before looking up.

His wrinkled face curling into a curious frown.

“Ben Solo? That your birth name?”

Ben swallowed hard, exercising that good ol' right to stay silent, despite it being something as simple as confirming who he was. It wasn't like they were asking him for a confession, but he knew the minute he started talking to them, or answering their questions, then they would try to get more out of him. So, instead, he cut his eyes around, looking over at Snoke. Which was something that he shouldn’t have done either. Considering how that bastard was, once again, smirking at him.

Officer Djarin seemed to notice it, because his entire demeanor changed. His grip on Ben’s forearm loosening; his brows knitting. “You want to tell me how you got that bruise on your neck?” He came around to Ben’s side, staring at his throat before meeting his eyes. “Was it _him_?” He said in a quiet whisper. “Did he do that to you?”

His voice, though stern, was somehow amiable, and for a second Ben _almost_ trusted him enough to answer him. But then he remembered the two hours that he had spent at the police station last night, and he turned his head. Saying nothing.

“You sure you don’t have anything that you want to tell us, son?” Djarin asked him again. “Anything at all?”

Ben squared his jaw. “Not without my lawyer.”

Granted, Ben didn’t exactly _have_ an attorney. Not anymore. Because the same lawyers that represented _him,_ also represented Snoke. Which meant that he was shit out of luck if he expected the label to provide him with any sort of legal representation. Not after he had decked one of their own in a room full of credible witnesses. So, that statement didn’t carry a whole lot of weight with it.

But Ben was so fucking pissed that he didn’t give a shit.

He would get his own damn attorney.

He just had to swallow his pride first.

—————

Hux weaved through the crowd, running like a man that was trying to catch a moving train. His hair bouncing around his face; his cheeks so red from exertion that his skin looked sunburnt.

He was already trying to think of what he needed to do, or who he needed to call in order to get Ben cleared of whatever charges they were about to slap him with. Which would take a damn good lawyer, considering how Snoke was a breath away from looking like a fucking cyclops, and there was about two dozen witnesses that more than likely had the whole thing on video.

The way Hux figured it, based on his limited knowledge of the criminal justice system, Ben was looking at a pretty serious assault charge. Possibly in the second degree. But hopefully in the third. Because, in the state of New York, assault in the third degree was just a misdemeanor. And since Ben, for the most part, had a clean record, they might be able to get the charges dropped.

But assault in the second degree was a fucking felony. And if the judge decided to throw the book at him, then Ben was looking at up to seven years in a state prison.

Something that Snoke would undoubtedly push for, if he had any say in it.

Hux rounded the corner, speeding up despite his legs wanting to give out, with Ben’s duffle bag high on his shoulder and his own backpack slapping him in the spine every time he took a step.

His top priority, right now, was to get Rose and Rey back to their hotel.

But when he broke through a sea of pedestrian traffic, and saw Rey standing there with this worried look on her face, he knew that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

He ran straight to them, his head dizzy. “We have… to go.” He panted, minutes from keeling over. He really needed to start exercising. “Please. NOW. I have to get both of you out of here.”

He glanced at both girls, then to DJ and Temiri, before settling on Rey, watching her face grow pale. Her eyes starting to water.

“Armie, where is Ben?” She said in a quiet whisper.

“I promise, I’ll explain everything. But right now, I need you to get in the car.” He all-but pleaded. His own eyes beginning to well. “ _Please_."

“I’m not going anywhere!” Rey fired back, her voice trembling. “Not until to you tell me where he is.”

Hux sighed, pressing his lips together, and then eyed DJ and Temiri until they took the hint and left. He was fairly certain that they already knew, but he still waited until they were far enough away before he look back down at her, wishing that he could tell her something else, _anything_ else. “Ben just got arrested.” He admitted softly, watching the surprise pass over her face. Her chest heaving through a gasp. 

“He WHAT?”

“Snoke caught us as we were leaving. Said some pretty awful shit to him. And Ben — he just fucking lost it.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping the tears off his face. “So, now, will you _please_ just get in the car?”

“Wait a minute. Ben’s going to _jail?”_ Rose spoke up, blinking. “Armie, are you serious?"

“Yes, I’m serious!” He answered quickly, sounding exasperated. “He’s in a lot of fucking trouble. And I have to try and help him get out of it. But I can’t do that until I get the two of you out of here. So, PLEASE…”

Rey turned around before he could even finish his sentence, practically sprinting towards the exits with her phone in her hands. Her fingers tapping on the screen until she had her recent calls pulled up.

“What are you doing?” Hux raced after her. “Who are you calling?”

She shoved her way through the exit door, causing it to swing open, and then glanced at him over her shoulder. “Han.”

“Rey, I really don’t think Ben would want you calling his…”

“I’m not leaving this _CITY_ without him,” She quickly countered, her hands shaking as she waited for Han to pick up.“I don’t care if it takes me all night, I’m not letting him sit in a jail cell because of _Snoke_. So, you and Rose are going to find out what precinct they’re taking him to. And I’m going to get him a lawyer. Then, after that—" She blinked through her tears, rubbing them away with a rough swipe. Her voice breaking. "He's coming home with me. Where he belongs. Because **—** because _FUCK SNOKE_!"

Rose’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, twisting her mouth to the side, whispering to Hux. “Did she just cuss?”

“ _Uh huh_ ,” He nodded. His mouth hanging open.

“Wow. Okay then. _Fuck Snoke_ ,” Rose repeated with a shrug before she unlocked her phone and looked up at Hux. “Which precinct are we calling first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Ben swallows his pride


	16. Shallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's long and never-ending night continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! 
> 
> Surprise! Here's part 2 of "probably" 3. Maybe 4? HOW LONG IS THIS NIGHT?
> 
> The song is "Shallow" by Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper, because it's, well... appropriate.

“ _Come on, pick up_.” Rey whispered to herself, the words barely passing through her lips. “ _Please, pick up.”_

This was the sixth time that she had tried to call him since they left the arena. The sixth time of listening to that same, short, _very Han-like_ , voicemail over and over and over, before she quickly hung up and started calling again.

She knew that there was no point in leaving him a message, because Han had no idea know how to check them, so it would just sit there in his mailbox until the Second Coming of Christ, and Rey just couldn’t wait that long.

Plus, it was already a quarter after midnight, so he was probably asleep by now. No doubt in his recliner with his reading glasses hanging around his neck and the television still on.

But if he didn’t answer her in the next five minutes, then she was going to send someone over to his house.

She didn’t know _who_ she was going to send.

But she would send _somebody_.

“This is Han.” _Beep!_

Rey jabbed her thumb onto the red, end call button, her eyes so waterlogged that she was struggling to see the screen. She was trying not to let her fear turn into frustration, because being frustrated was just going to make everything that much worse. And, right now, she couldn’t handle worse _._ She was barely able to handle _this_. Just sitting in the backseat of the SUV while Snap drove aimlessly around Manhattan, watching the lights pass through the window, wondering if Ben was okay, or if he was hurt, or if he thought that no one was trying, or going, to fight for him.

Surely, he knew that she was going to fight for him?

That she would _always_ fight for him?

She wiped a tear off of her chin, wishing that she could just _see_ him— to know, for certain, that he was alright. Or for him to see _her,_ so that he would realize that she wasn’t going anywhere. That she was still _right here_. Still standing in his corner. Still ready to forgive him and hold him and spend the rest of her life loving him. And that no one, least of all Snoke, was going to keep her from doing it.

Ben needed to know that.

So, Rey pressed the call button again, and prayed that _this time_ , Han would finally answer. After all, sevens were supposed to be lucky, weren’t they? And there were so many beautifully wonderful things that came in sevens. Seven days in a week. Seven continents. Seven seas. Seven colors of the rainbow. Seven wonders of the world. Seven games in an MLB championship series.

So, surely to God, Han Solo would answer his phone on the seventh call.

She had called him so many times that she had memorized how many rings it took for his voicemail to pick up. And right now she was counting all _seven_ of them, one at a time, letting each steady trill fall in time with her breaths.

But right before it played his grumbly “ _This is Han_ ,” she heard a very groggy, sleep-deprived “ _Yeah?”_

_Oh, thank God._

“Han? HAN!” She jolted forward, causing her seatbelt to lock. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up, but…”

“No, no. S’alright. Ani went to bed about,” he paused. “—about two hours ago. Took that allergy medicine that you told me to give her. Then, she was out like a light. Got her upstairs in Ben’s old room.”

“I’m glad she’s okay, but that’s, um… That’s not why I was calling.” She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “I was actually calling about Ben.”

“Did something happened to him?”

She nodded sadly, even though he couldn’t see her. “Snoke confronted him backstage after the concert. Said some pretty terrible things to him. And Ben hit him.”

“Good,” came his quick reply. “Tell him I’m proud of him.”

“No, that’s—“ Rey squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palm into her forehead to stop the ache. “They arrested him for assault.”

“Well, _SHIT._ ” She heard the recliner creak, a sure-fire sign that Han was trying to get up. “Alright, I’ll call Luke.”

“I was going to do that. That’s why I called you,” she said in a growing panic. “But I don’t have his number in my phone anymore. I thought I did, but I got this new one, and I guess I never put it in. And the only thing that I could find online was his office number. But it’s late, so I know he won’t be there. And I just— I thought maybe he’d be able to help.”

“Ah, you better let me call him, kid. I’ve a lot more pull than you do.” He said half-heartedly. His voice so calm and so unbothered. Almost like he knew this would be an easy fix. “You know where they’ve taken him? Which precinct?”

She glanced over at Rose and Hux, who were huddled together and on their third, unsuccessful attempt at narrowing it down.

“We’re still working on it.” Rey told him with a heavy sigh. “I don’t think he’s been booked yet. No one seems to know anything. Or maybe they’re just not telling us. I don’t know. I just—I want to see him. I want to get him out. Han, we have to get him out.”

There was a short silence after that, just a little one. But Han knew that she didn’t mean get him out of _jail_. She meant get him out of _there_. Out of that environment. That industry. That _life._

 _“_ Let me see what I can do and I’ll call you back.”

—————

They had him shackled to a table in the interrogation room like some sort of criminal on _Law & Order. _His hands out in front of him, attached to a footlong, steel chain; his knuckles swollen and bloodied and sore, sending a sharp pain up his arm every time he flexed his fingers. He figured the damn thing was probably broken, or fractured, or fucking who-knows-what, but at this point, Ben was so exhausted that he didn’t really give a shit.

Let it be broken. Fuck it.

Officer Djarin had pulled up a chair across from him, laying an unopened manila folder on the table, while his partner, Officer Child, stood in the corner, nursing a cup of coffee — for some reason, holding it with _both_ hands.

They had brought him _here,_ to a secluded room, for booking and processing, because with his celebrity status and this being such a high-profile case, it wouldn’t be appropriate to hold him with the rest of the general population.

And given the chaos that was already starting to spiral outside of the precinct, with reporters and columnists from every major news outlet in the area camping along the sidewalk, waiting to find out what Kylo Ren was going to be charged with, the police department had to take the necessary precautions to keep everyone safe, including Ben.

But Ben, for lack of a better word, was fucking _over it_.

He was over all of it: the long and inscrutable stares, the repetitive questions that already had answers, the handcuffs digging into his wrists, irritating his skin, the fact that he had been here, in this same spot, for over _two hours_ and no one would let him make a phone call.

They kept telling him that once they were finished booking him, then he’d be able to call whoever he wanted, however many times he wanted to call them, but in the meantime, he had to just _hang tight_ and then they would be _happy to accommodate him._

Which sounded an awful lot like bullshit, but considering how he was currently chained to a table, he couldn’t exactly refute it.

And he was trying not to be an asshole.

Really, he was.

Because, for the most part, his arresting officers seemed like decent people. They hadn’t slammed his head into the table yet, or tried to do that whole good-cop bad-cop routine, and they had even offered him some sort of stale-ass, watered-down coffee that had probably been sitting in the pot since the last shift.

But, at this point, with his exhaustion on the brink of delirium, Ben really wished that they would just throw him in a fucking cell.

At least, that way, he would be able to sleep. And if he was asleep, then he wouldn’t have to think about the large, gaping hole that he had dug himself into.

But since _Starsky and Hutch_ weren’t in any kind of hurry, he had no choice but to sit there and think about what he had done.

Which was quite a conundrum for Ben.

Because even though he had calmed down quite a bit in the last two hours, he was still mad enough to bite through a railroad spike. And no amount of shame or embarrassment or unwanted publicity was going to make him regret hitting Snoke. If anything, he wished that he could hit that son of a bitch again. But he _did_ , however, wish that he would’ve listened to Armie, and kept walking. Because if he had listened, then instead of being _here_ , he would’ve been sitting in some, little booth, watching Rey manhandle a plate of lasagna.

He could already picture the sauce stain on the front of her shirt, or the waythat she blushed and tried to apologize for getting so carried away and missing her mouth.

He pressed his face into his palms, elbows propped up onto the table, that damn chain clanking, and tried to think about what she might say next. Probably something so mundane and so ordinary, yet so uniquely _her —_ like what he thought of his overly pretentious _eggplant parmigiana,_ or if he wanted to split an appetizer that she would just end up eating the majority of.

“You filed a police report last night.”

Ben’s eyes sprung open, his hands dropping from his face, finding Officer Djarin staring over at him.

“Accusing Peter Snoke of attacking you in a backstage lounge around 7:30PM.” Djarin continued as he opened the manilla folder, taking out a piece of paper, before placing it in front of Ben. “Would you be willing to discuss _that_ incident instead?”

“Not without my lawyer,” Ben stared down at the report, sounding a little too disengaged.

“You’re looking at a pretty serious assault charge, Mr. Solo.” Djarin told him, though not-unkindly. “If I were you, I’d be doing everything that I could to help myself.”

Did they really think that he _hadn’t_?

That he had filed this police report just for the Hell of it?

Ben scoffed, but otherwise said nothing.

“You don’t have to talk about what happened to you.” Officer Djarin shook his head, shrugging. “But, you should know that I’m not asking you about this, or bringing it up, as some trick to get you to trust me. We already have more than enough probable cause to go ahead and submit your arrest report to the district attorney. So, I’m not doing this to close a case.” He watched Ben closely, trying to understand his state of mind based on his mannerisms. The spasm beneath his eye. The stiffness of his posture. The way his hands seemed to clench at sporadic and unprompted moments. “I’m doing it to open one.”

Ben’s brows slowly furrowed, his jaw loosening just enough to work through a swallow before tightening again.

He didn’t know how to react to that, or if he _should_ react to that, because if he said one wrong word, then he was fucked even more than he already was.

Yet, there was something about the look on this man’s face, the tone of his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, that made him pause.

“I believe that Peter Snoke attacked you last night,” Djarin told him pointedly, being very direct and specific in his wording. “And I believe that the bruise around your neck, and the subsequent fracture to your larynx, as listed in this report, was a result of that attack. So, with your cooperation, I _will be_ opening an investigation and seeing if we have enough evidence to charge him with a crime.”

The change in Ben was infinitesimally subtle, the tiniest of differences in his demeanor, and if Officer Djarin hadn’t been trained in human behaviors and body language, then he wouldn’t have even noticed it.

Yet, the change didn’t last but a second before it was just — gone.

And that suddenly made Djarin wonder if Ben’s impassiveness and his intensity were natural facets of his personality, or if they were both, somehow, unconsciously done.

Like some kind of a defense mechanism.

“I’ve been a police officer for over twenty years,” Djarin studied him curiously, his brows pinched. “So, there isn’t a whole lot that surprises me anymore, and there isn’t much that I miss. Which is why I know that something like _that_ …” He pointed to the report. “…has happened to you before.”

Ben immediately tensed, his nails digging into his palms.

“So, how long has Peter Snoke been doing this to you?”

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy.”

“Good. Because I’m not offering you my fucking sympathy.” Djarin countered just as quickly, his voice eerily monotone. "I’m offering to help you.”

Ben lunged forward, the chains around his wrist rattling. “ _Why_?” He asked him, leaning on the table, his hoarse voice coming out in strained growl.

He looked like a wounded animal. One that was finally being shown the smallest display of kindness, but didn’t quite know how to take it, or what to do with it, or if he could trust it. So, instead of just listening, or admitting that he _needed_ help, he was fighting against it. His eyes all-but burning in their sockets; his wrists grinding into the strands of his handcuffs until his skin was even redder.

Officer Djarin reached out towards Ben’s hands, but the movement was so sudden and so unprompted that it caused Ben to flinch back, the chain pulled taut and snapping in a _pop._

And for a minute, neither of them moved.

They just stared at each other, almost like they were waiting to see what the other would do.

But then once Djarin held up his hand, showing him the key to the handcuffs, Ben slowly brought his arms back down.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered, much softer this time.

“Because this is the way,” Djarin said casually as he slid the key into the post, turning it until the strands loosened and Ben was free. “ _Now_ … Do you want to tell me about last night? Or do you want me to start this investigation based off of a piece of paper that probably doesn’t have half of what really happened on it?”

Ben shuddered through a raspy breath — his heart beating against his ribs, his eyes becoming glossy, his jaw working from side to side, hesitating, thinking.

“Not without my lawyer,” he answered with a heavy swallow.

Djarin pressed his lips together, nodding.

He knew that Ben wanted help. The kid was practically _screaming_ for it. But he had probably been screaming for so long that he wouldn’t know what help looked like, even if it was sitting right in front of him.

Yet, instead of pressing him, or trying to reassure him that this wasn’t some elaborate scheme, Djarin simply laid Ben’s cellphone down onto the table and scooted it closer to him.

“Then, call one.”

——————

Rey was standing on the sidewalk outside of the police precinct — a safe distance away from all of the news vans and film crews that were blocking the street — with her hands nervously fumbling in front of her stomach.

She had been there for _maybe_ twenty minutes, possibly thirty, waiting for Luke to finally show up, and she was starting to feel a little antsy, wondering where he was, or what was taking him so long. But considering how she had been going around in circles for the last two hours, waiting for _this_ _exact moment_ , she figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait just a little bit longer.

Besides, now that she knew that Ben was going to be released, she had all of the time in the world. And she was already trying to think of what she was going to say to him whenever she finally got to see him again. How she would go about wording what she wanted, without coming off as needy or desperate or insensitive, considering the night that he had.

Because even though she was fairly positive that his offer still stood, she didn’t want him to think that she was being selfish for asking him _now_ , when she had every chance to ask him before, yet didn’t.

But he had told her, that night on her couch, after they had put Ani to bed, that if she wanted him to stay, then he would. He even said it at the flower shop, not long after he came home. But both times, she hadn’t been ready. The hurt had still been too raw; the fear had still been too fresh. And she had been so afraid that if she let go and let herself just _be with him_ , like she had wanted from the very beginning, then it might not last. He might leave again, or walk away, or decide that he had found something better in someone else. Yet, he had been telling her, _all this time,_ that if she wanted him to stay with her, and _be with her_ , then he would.

And Ben Solo was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

So, whenever he walked out of those doors, Rey was going to take what he had been trying to give her. She was going to ask him to come back home with her. And she didn’t care if it made her selfish, or if she would sound needy or desperate, because she _was_ needy and desperate. And now that she was being open with what she was, and what she wanted, she guessed that she was _clingy_ too, because the minute she got her hands on that man, she was _never_ letting him go.

“You alright?” Rose asked with a cherry sucker pushed up into the inside her cheek, causing her face to have a round, protruding lump near her mouth. “You’re breathing awful hard.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” Rey cut her eyes around, smirking. “Just thinking about sausage and omelettes.”

“Hmm.” Hux chimed in, running his hands down the length of his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his exhaustion. “Breakfast does sound pretty good right about now.”

Rose snorted, shaking her head. “That’s not what she meant."

—————

Ben stared down at his phone, trying to swallow that lump in his throat that felt a little bit like pride. Which was a strange concept for him. Because despite his ability to be a world-class dick, Ben Solo had never been known for being very prideful. His identity and sense of self had always been so warped and uncertain that there was never really much room for it.

Yet, that was the _exact_ reason why he wouldn’t just dial the number.

Pride.

He hadn’t spoken to his uncle in years. Not since that anomalous old man had called him up, right after the release of his debut album, just to tell him that Snoke was using him, and that he had no business doing what he was going. And Ben, who was at his most combative, had assumed that Skywalker meant that he had no business being a musician. That he wasn’t good enough, or talented enough, to make it in the long run.

So, instead of just hearing him out, or letting him clarify, Ben had told him in an angry, drunken, drug-fueled rage that he could quote, “ _Go to Hell.”_

After that, he never spoke to him again. Luke had never called to apologize, and Ben hadn’t cared enough, at the time, to wait for him to.

But now, Ben needed him.

And he _hated_ that he needed him.

But not the kind of angry hate that spews and spits like volcanic lava, destroying everything around it. This was a much more miserable kind. Because in order for Ben to ask for help, then he had no choice but to admit that he had been wrong — to the one person that always had to be right.

Ben unlocked his phone and pulled up his keypad, drawing in a slow breath.

He didn’t have the number saved, but that didn't matter. Because he knew it by heart. Every single digit, as if Luke’s phone number had always been more _vital_ to him them 911. And when he began to dial it, listening to the tone _ping_ each time he pressed the button, his hands started shaking. His lips pressed tight to stop them from wobbling; his eyes wet.

He brought the phone up to his ear, the handcuffs lying in front of him on the table, and waited for him to answer, _praying_ that he would answer.

Luke had told him once, before their little spat, that if Ben ever wanted out, then all he had to do was call him. And there were several times, over the years, where he had desperately wanted to. He just didn't quite have the courage to do it. 

But now that he did, Luke didn’t answer. 

Yet, Ben didn’t hang up.

“Hey, Uncle Luke… It’s—It’s Ben.” He swallowed hard, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes, fighting to steady his voice. “I know that I, um… I haven’t spoken to you in a long time. And I know that I don’t have any right to ask you for anything. Not after what I did. But I was wondering if — if maybe that offer was still on the table? The one about helping me get out? If it’s not, then—“ He squeezed his eyes shut. “That's okay. But I really—I really want to go home,” he tensed his jaw to muffle a whimper. “And I need your help.”

He ended the call and dropped his phone onto the table with a _clank_ , taking a minute to calm himself down before he tried to call Rey — hoping that she would, at least, hear him out. Or let him explain what had happened.

But before he could pick up the phone again, Officer Djarin opened the door to the interrogation room and stood in the opening. His brow raised.

“Let’s go, Solo.”

“No, wait. I — I need to make one more call.” He quickly reached for his phone. “Just one.”

“Then, do it from the sidewalk,” Djarin nudged his head over his shoulder. “You’re free to go.”

Ben stared at him, dumbfounded and blinking. “What?”

“Your lawyer’s here. Let’s go.”

“My what—“ Ben slowly stood to his feet, staggering a little after sitting for so long, and then he eased his way over towards the door, wondering if this was supposed to be some kind of joke.

They didn’t hand him any paperwork as they walked him out, or tell him when he needed to be in court. They didn’t say _anything_. They just gave him his bagged-up belongings, lead him through a pair of heavy-plated security doors, and then buzzed him through a second one. Letting him walk out, scot-free, towards the main entrance.

He had no idea what was going on, or why he was being released. But when he strolled into the lobby, he spotted someone a little too familiar leaning against the reception desk.

And his heart stopped.

“Uncle Luke?” Ben squinted in confusion. For a second, he thought he was seeing things. But that brown, three-piece suit was a little hard to miss. “How did you—“

Luke tapped his hand on the counter, saying his goodbyes, before walking towards Ben holding a dark, leather briefcase in one hand and what looked like an iced coffee in the other. “Well, if it isn’t my naughty nephew.” He smirked, bringing the straw to his mouth. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like shit.” Ben huffed out a tired sigh. “How did you get me out?”

“Oh, you know… a couple threats here, a couple bribes there.” He shrugged and motioned for Ben to follow him. “Being good friends with the district attorney might've helped."

But Ben _didn’t_ follow him. He just stood there, motionless, with his arms hanging at his sides, his heart in his throat, wondering how Luke managed to find him so quickly. Because Ben knew that he hadn't had time to check his voicemail, or to know that he had called him. Which meant that someone else had.

And, yet, he still came.

Luke turned around, trying to figure what the hold-up was.

“Thank you.” Ben swallowed thickly. His eyes watering. “I mean it. Thank you.”

Luke’s lips curled into a toothless grin, his lips hidden behind his beard. “You’re welcome, kid.” He nodded. “Now, come on. There’s a pretty, little brown-haired flower girl outside that bet me a home-cooked meal that I couldn’t get your case dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Rey asks Ben to come back to Chandrila with her. But will he?


	17. Faithfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a few negative comments over the last week, about how Rey has forgiven Ben too quickly, or that she shouldn't forgive him at all. And I'm not going to lie, it made me a little sad. Because I love writing this story, and this was the first time where I thought about walking away from it.
> 
> But I'm not a quitter. So, rather than give up, I sat down, cracked open a beer, and wrote this instead.
> 
> I'm not sorry.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Faithfully," by Journey, because this fic needed an 80s power ballad. And quite frankly, so did I.

She smoothed her hand across her belly, willing the butterflies to settle down long enough for her to just— _breathe_. That was what she needed to do. She needed to _breathe_. Because an impulsive, wild-hair idea like _this one_ had at least a one percent chance of not going the way that she wanted it to. And even though there was another ninety-nine percent that said otherwise, Rey was still afraid that something might go wrong.

And she didn’t want it to go wrong.

She wanted this, of all things, to go _right._

But it had been awhile — and she was a little out of practice. So, if she was actually going to do it, if she was going to kiss him in front of all of these people, then she needed to _breathe_ first.

Rose was staring at her, eyebrows cocked, lips pressed into a flat, unimpressed line. “Are you having second thoughts?” She asked casually, causing Rey to jerk her head around.

“What?”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No? I mean — yes? Maybe? I don’t know!” Rey frowned as she squeezed the front of her crop top, right above her navel. “I’m so nervous, Rose. Why am I nervous?” She blinked at her. “It’s _Ben_."

“Well, are you sure it’s what you want?”

“YES!” Rey answered a little louder than she had intended, then softened her voice. “I — I mean, _yes_. Yes, it’s what I want. I _know_ it’s what I want. _He_ is what I want.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” Rose tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders.

Rey drew her brows in, fighting a pout. “What if he doesn’t want me to? What if I just make a fool out of myself?”

The laugh she got from that was almost insulting.

“There’s literally a zero percent chance of that happening.” Rose shot back. "Actually, there’s _less than_ a zero percent chance of that happening. Armie, tell her.”

Hux was standing next to them, shooting a quick text to Phasma, asking her if she would get the rest of Ben’s things out of his hotel room so that they could pick them up. “Yeah,” he mumbled as he typed. “It’s definitely less than zero.”

“There has to be at least _one.”_ Rey tried to reason.

Hux arched his brow. _“_ There isn’t.”

“Rose?”

“I said what I said.” Rose stated firmly. Her chin tucked. “Besides, this isn’t about what he wants. We already _know_ what he wants. This is about _you_. So, if you want him, then _take him._ _”_

“Take him,” Rey nodded quickly, her throat dipping through a swallow. She looked like a deer in headlights — internally quarreling with her own panic. “I love him, and I want him, so I’m going to take him.”

“That sounds a little bit like kidnapping.” Hux chimed in, never looking up from his phone. “But alright.”

“Oh, shhh.” Rose waved him off, keeping her eyes trained on Rey. “Just remember that you have to jump _before_ you get to him. Okay? _Before_.”

“Before.”

“Yes, _before.”_ She coached her. “Think of it like pole vaulting.”

“Pole vaulting.”

“Or like Jennifer Gray and Patrick Swayze in _Dirty Dancing_.” Rose pressed on, trying to hype her up. “Nobody puts Rey in a corner.”

Rey shook her head, “Nobody puts me in a corner.”

She could do this.

She was _going_ to do this.

Rey was so keyed up that she could practically feel her skin vibrate. Every little inch of it. Like an electric current tickling its way up the insides of her thighs, making her legs want to buckle. And she knew that if Luke didn’t hurry up and bring Ben out, then she was going to go in and get him herself.

Luke had already been in there for about thirteen minutes, and even though she had no idea how long something like this was supposed to take, Rey was pretty sure that it had been long enough. More than long enough. She should be halfway up that tree by now, with her legs wrapped around his waist and his head smooshed between her hands — hopefully with him still standing upright, but if she knocked him to the ground, then she knocked him to the ground.

But she was starting to get a little worried — having another minute tick by, another sixty seconds of nothing but waiting. Because what if the police chose not to release him? Could they do that? Luke had told her that it wouldn’t be an issue, that he was close friends with the district attorney, and that he’d have him out within the hour. And Luke had been so confident, that it made _her_ feel confident. Yet, they were still inside the precinct, and she was still standing on the sidewalk, and she had no idea if she was going to stand there for another hour, or for the rest of the night, orif she’d have to wait all day tomorrow.

She would do all of the above, if she had to.

Because Rey wasn’t leaving this _street,_ let alone this city, unless Ben was with her.

That much she was certain of.

Thankfully though, before she had time to pick out a spot on the sidewalk to set up camp, the doors of the precinct slid open, and Luke was leading him out — the two of them stopping at the top of the steps in front of a sea of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. And Rey felt an immediate sense of relief wish over her — a feeling that rose up every notch in her ribcage, circling around the walls of her chest, before passing through her lips in a sigh.

Because Ben was free, and he was safe, and he was _hers._

But before that relief had time to settle, he stepped out from behind Luke, giving her a better view of him. And he had this broken and downhearted look on his face that made her heart immediately sink, with his brows pinched and his head bowed. His eyes, from what she could tell, were so heavy-lidded that they were hardly even open, and the bruise on his neck had gotten even darker, almost black.

But it was his complexion, more than anything, that worried her. Because he was so pale and waxen and bloodless that he like a corpse.

“Armie,” Rey whispered softly, causing Hux to peer over while she kept her eyes on Ben. “When was the last time he slept?”

Hux scratched the back of his neck, grimacing. “A few days, at least.”

She pressed her lips together, nodding as she watched Ben take out his phone and start to type something onto the screen. Luke was speaking to a few of the journalists, answering their questions and putting that law degree to use, while Ben stepped off to the side, bringing the phone up to his ear, his hand running through his hair. She sensed that he was one hard breath away from panicking, and it made her wonder who he was calling, or why it seemed so urgent.

But then she felt her back pocket start to vibrate.

Rey choked out a teary laugh, wishing that he would just turn his head to the right. Because if he did, then he would see her standing on the sidewalk, less that fifty feet away, grinning from ear to ear.

She looked over at Hux, then at Rose, “He’s calling me.”

“Well, are you going to answer him?” Rose raised her brow.

Rey bit her lip, shaking her head no.

She had something a little better in mind.

And by the time Luke had wrapped up his little spiel, and was motioning for Ben to follow him down the steps, Rey was _running._

There was a row of police officers attempting to push the press back, to let the two of them through, so that they could have a clear path to Luke’s SUV. But once they were at the vehicle, with the door opened, ready to leave, Luke stopped just shy of the curb, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Ben was too caught up in leaving her a voicemail to realize that she was _already there_ , and it wasn’t until Luke tapped him on the shoulder, telling him that he _might wanna look up_ , that Ben finally saw her coming at him in a full-blown sprint.

But once he did, his whole body immediately softened. His mouth falling open; his chest heaving out the most pitiful breath that Rey had ever seen, or heard.

He slowly took his phone away from his ear and brought it down to his side, letting it hang between his fingers, and then he took a step towards her. His expression partly dazed, but mostly in awe.

“Rey?” He beamed. His watery eyes so full of hope.

He was looking her as if the only thing that he could ever love _as much as her,_ was a smaller, pint-sized version of her.

And that was all Rey needed.

Just that look.

So, when she was down to the final three feet, she remembered what Rose had told her, and then without giving it another thought, she _vaulted_ herself off of the ground and into his arms. His phone slipping out of his hands and falling onto the sidewalk with a _clank_ ; his body stumbling backwards as he caught her.

She was careful not to touch his neck, cupping the underside of his jaw instead, with her thumbs grazing along his cheeks as she breathed out a happy, little laugh and a promising, “ _I love you_.”

She watched his surprise turn into a grin — his shoulders shaking through another sigh. And she could tell, by the way his mouth moved that he was about to say it back, but she didn’t give him time to, she just — _went for it_.

No more thinking.

No more waiting.

She smashed her lips into his, listening to the way his throat vibrated with a soft, yet whimpering, moan. The sound so addicting that she suddenly wanted _more_ of it _;_ she wanted all of them. Every little noise that she could coax out of him, she wanted. The quiet gasps. The subtle grunts. The way his grip seemed to tighten on her thighs as he supported her weight. She wanted _everything._

And sure… she was a little clumsy. Okay, fine, she was _really_ clumsy — with her mouth opened and practically devouring his bottom lip before Ben even had time to let her in — but she was so eager to eat him alive that she didn’t have the patience to worry about finesse. She knew what she wanted, and she was past the point of waiting for it. And Ben was easily just as eager, because by the time the poor boy finally found his bearings, he was tilting his head to give her a better angle.

The officers to the right of them started to move forward, thinking that she was some kind of crazed fan that had slipped through their fingers, but Luke quickly cut them off. His head shaking. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

He knew that if any of them touched her, or even made an _attempt_ to touch her, then they would just end up having to take Ben right back inside. And as much as he loved a good challenge, Luke wasn’t real keen on having to call the DA again.

He cleared his throat, as if he expected that to be enough for Rey to withdraw her tongue from his nephew’s throat. And when that didn’t work, he cleared it a little _harder_. Which was just an obvious waste of his time, because Rey wasn’t letting up.

Thankfully, Ben had half a mind to carry her over to the vehicle, dropping down from the curb, with his hand now on her cheek, kissing her with fervor, while his other arm curled around her back, pressing her into him.

 _“_ Not in the backseat of the Lincoln. _My God_.” Luke grimaced as he bent down to pick up Ben's phone, chuckling at the spider-web cracks across the screen.

Ben pulled back first, much to Rey’s mewling protests, and it was obvious that he didn’t want to stop either, but he needed to get her inside the vehicle, and he had to actually be able to _see_ what he was doing. But once they were inside, and the door was shut, she was on him _again_. Her hand turning his face towards her; her lips brushing against his, a lot softer this time, less hungry. Then, by the time Luke was in the passenger seat, and his personal assistant, Artoo, drove the SUV away from the curb, Rey was finally close to being sated.

Not enough to sit back in her seat, or stop touching Ben’s jaw, or reaching for his hand, but enough to calm down and just — _breathe._

“Are you hurt?” She whispered, looking from his swollen lips to his eyes.

He seemed to be in a complete, drugged-out bliss. His face frozen in a perpetual grin; his eyes all-but sparkling. “No.” He shook his head slightly. “Just tired.”

“Will you come back to the hotel with me?” She asked him somewhat nervously. “I mean, to sleep! We’ll be sleeping. Just sleeping.”

His fingers reached up, brushing a fallen lock of hair out of her eyes. His lips pressed into a slight smirk; his head dipping once to nod. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” she muttered quietly, smiling up at him. “I want you with me.”

He dragged his thumb along her jawline from her ear to her chin, watching the way her eyelashes fluttered. “I _am_.”

She met his gaze, shaking her head. “Not just tonight.”

She wanted him with her tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, until they were old and gray and feeble.

And by the way he was looking at her, his expression so intense, yet so endearingly grateful, she had a feeling that Ben understood what she meant.

But before he had time to deliver a resounding yes, or give her an enthusiastic _abso-fucking-lutely_ — Luke, who was apparently incapable of reading the room, decided that _now_ was a good time for him to speak.

“You’re going to need to lay low for a little while, kid.” He called from up front. “There’s a lot of media attention on you right now, and if you do anything stupid, then it’s not going to help you in court.”

“In court?” Rey swung around, frowning. “You said that his case was dismissed.”

“This one, yeah.” He shot her a look — his brow raised. “But lover boy back there has much bigger problems than an assault charge.”

Rey turned to Ben, watching him stare at her with so much longing that she almost kissed him again just for the Hell of it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m going to get sued.” He told her softly, shrugging.

“What? Why?” She narrowed her eyes. “For hitting Snoke? He — he can sue you for that?”

“Well, it’s not _just_ Snoke.” Luke answered as he scrolled through the emails on his phone. “The label will sue him too. Possibly even the venue. Though, I think I might have that one handled.”

“Let me guess,” Ben slouched in his seat as Rey took his hand. Her fingers gently brushing along his knuckles. “A couple threats here? A couple bribes there?”

Luke glanced over his shoulder, smirking at him as he passed him his broken phone. “If I have to.”

Ben let out a tired sigh, his head falling back on the rest.

His uncle seemed to have everything under control — which was pretty standard for a swanky, New York attorney with an ego the size of a blue whale. Not that Ben was complaining. If it weren’t for Luke, then he would probably be in a cell right now, instead of _here_ — with _her._ And that alone was enough to make everything else worth it. Just being able to be with her, and to have her actually want him to be there.

But despite his heart being so full that it was practically ripping at the seams, it didn’t take long for Luke to start getting on his nerves. Turning their quiet car ride into a legal consultation. Telling him all of the things that he couldn’t do over the course of the coming weeks, like: talk to the press, or make any kind of public appearances, or get into anymore trouble.

Things that Ben didn’t plan on doing anyway.

And he was _trying_ to not be so irritable, or annoyed. Because Ben was so grateful for everything that Luke was doing for him, or had done for him. And he was trying even harder to listen to him, so that he could do whatever he was asking of him. But Luke just had this _tone_ about him. This hubristic and infuriating sense of self-importance that Ben had forgotten how much he hated. And it was making him want to lash out, the way he used to.

Yet, somewhere in the middle of Luke’s spiel, Ben started to lose focus.

Because every time Luke said something that noticeably irked him, Rey would plant a soft, feather-light kiss to his shoulder, then smile up at him.

Or whenever his muscles began to grow tense, she would skim her fingertips up the length of his forearm, then back down again, causing them to fall slack.

She knew exactly what to do and when to do it, becoming this sort of _tether_ for him — a tether that was so gentle and delicate and _grounding_ that by the time they had reached her hotel, she had practically put him to sleep. His forehead pressed into her temples, nuzzling her hairline like a tamed lion; his breathing so slow and so relaxed that he couldn’t even remember what Luke had said to begin with.

“ _I love you… so fucking much._ ” He mumbled into her ear, causing her to grin.

He was so adorably groggy that she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come on,” she turned her head towards him, stealing another kiss simply because she could. “I love you too, but I don’t think that I can carry you up to the room. So, keep those eyes open, _lover boy_.”

She took him by the hand, listening to him laugh, and then lead him out of the SUV, promising Luke that they would come by his apartment later on today, before she left for Chandrila, so that they could go over more of the details. Knowing that Ben would be much more awake and receptive to them, once he had a chance to sleep-off the exhaustion.

There weren’t very many people in the hotel lobby, which wasn’t much of a surprise, considering how late it was. But the few that were stopped what they were doing whenever she walked in with Ben.

And she tried to ignore it. All of the staring. The whispers. The way their eyes seemed to follow her towards the elevator.

But when one of the bellhops took out his phone and snapped a picture, Rey felt like crying.

It was _that_ quick — this need to hide herself. Because she wasn’t used to being gawked at, or ogled, and even though they were probably staring at Ben, considering that he was the celebrity, she still felt a little self-conscious standing in front of the elevator, at three o’clock in the morning, wearing a laced-up crop top and a pair of high-waisted jeans that she could barely squeeze into.

She started fiddling with her shirt, trying to pull it down — her teeth digging into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She didn’t have _that_ much skin exposed, just a little, and that was only because Rose had refused to let her wear a bright, yellow sundress to a heavy metal concert. But they were looking at her as if she had walked in naked. Which made her _feel_ naked.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked gently. His brows furrowed as the elevator dinged.

She rushed inside without answering him, pressing the button to her floor and steadying her breaths before she finally glanced over at him. “Do you think I look okay?”

He blinked through his exhaustion, fighting to keep his eyes open. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s—“ She shook her head quickly. “Nevermind.”

“Wait. Do I think you look _okay_?” He squinted, elongating the word as if it had offended him.

He pursed his lips together, watching her cross her arms over her chest, covering herself — which caught him a little off guard. Because he wasn’t quite sure where this was coming from, or why she suddenly felt like she wasn’t the actual incarnation of a deity. Yet, her cheeks were flushed. And Ben knew that they only flushed whenever she was angry… or nervous.

And he didn’t want her to be _either_. Not with him.

So, he stepped forward, moving ever so slowly, and then lifted her chin up to him. “ _Okay_ isn’t a word to describe you.” He answered before bringing his lips down to hers, yet stopping right before they could meet. “ _Meh_ is much more like it.”

She snorted out a snickering laugh, the sweet sound echoing through the elevator, and then reached up, without warning, and pinched him in the ribs. But despite his yelp, Ben was quick to recover, catching her by the wrist and spinning her around until her arm was crossed in front of her and her back was against his chest. He held her like that, feeling her relax into him, before turning his head and kissing her temple.

“There isn’t a word for what you are,” he breathed into her hair.

She craned her neck, capturing his lips with hers, and smiled into his mouth. “Only because you’re too tired to think of one.” She teased.

He grinned down at her, bringing his hand up to her throat, letting it linger there with so much gentleness that he was barely even touching her. “Ask me again in the morning.”

When the elevator dinged, she jumped up on the tips of her toes, stealing _one more kiss_ for her well-being, before meandering out into the hall as if the floor was somehow made of clouds. Ben was following along behind her, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face, and waited for her to get the door to her room opened.

“Do you want to take a shower?” She glanced over her shoulder as she walked inside, holding it for him.

“Why? Do I smell?”

“No, I—“ She sputtered, but then stopped once she saw him smirk. “Awful. You smell awful. Now, please, go shower.”

“I don’t have any clothes.” He arched his brow.

Her grin spread faster than she could stop it. Her shoulders shrugging. “Then, I guess you’ll just have to wear some of mine.”

His high-pitched cackle was so genuine, and so very _him_ , that Rey didn’t even realize, until right now, just how much she had missed hearing it. The way his face scrunched up and his head bowed. Or how his mouth spread open, showing his teeth. He had other laughs. Ones that were less carefree and more forced, like he was only doing it because he felt like he had to. But _this_ one was real. It was _honest._ And knowing that she had brought it out of him felt an awful lot like _healing._

He ducked into the bathroom after that, and once Rey heard the shower hiss on, she fell back on the bed, drumming her fingers on her belly as she waited for him to get out, so that she could get in. She tried not to kick herself too hard for not just joining him, coming off with some sort of excuse about saving water.

But deep down, Rey wasn’t ready to be intimate with him yet.

A part of her was. Especially after being reminded of what his lips felt like.

But another part, a more reasonable part, wanted to keep taking it slow. To ease back into… _that_. And wait until she was a little more confident, or secure with her body, before she let him see what she looked like _now,_ after bringing a nine and a half pound child into the world.

Thankfully, before she could sink too deep into her insecurities, there was a quiet knock on the door, followed by a well-timed bang that was _definitely_ Rose and Hux. Rey knew that it was them before she ever rolled off the bed, but she still checked the peephole, just in case. And sure enough, when she opened the door, they were standing out in the hall, holding Ben’s duffle bag along with the rest of his things.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Rose wiggled her eyebrows.

“Ben’s in the shower,” Rey shot her a knowing look, then moved to the side, letting Hux through.

He hauled Ben’s suitcase over to the foot of the bed, leaving it by his duffle bag, before making his way back to them. “He needs to take his medicine.” Hux informed her. “He’s already missed it once today, so just—“

“I’ll take care of him. I promise.” Rey smiled softly. “Thank you for bringing his stuff.”

Hux’s lips quirked into a slight grin, toothless and brief, before nodding.

“So, by _take care of him_ , do you mean…” Rose held up her hand to her mouth, mimicking a blowjob, with her tongue poking into her cheek.

“Goodnight, Rose.” Rey said in a sing-song-voice as she started to close the door. “Night, Arm.”

“MAKE SURE HE RECIPROCATES!” Rose cried out right before it shut.

Rey leaned her back against the surface, burying her face in her hands to muffle her squeal, or hide her blush, or just— _something_.

Then, after successfully expelling the sudden thought of Ben’s tongue working her to a wriggling frenzy, she drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill her lung, holding it there for a couple seconds, before heaving it all out into the open.

And she thought she was good. She thought that she had settled down.

But then the bathroom door swung open, and Ben was standing there with nothing but a white, hotel towel around his waist. His skin still damp from his shower; his hair dripping water onto his chest and shoulders. He looked — _otherworldly_. Like he wasn’t even supposed to be here. And yet, he was _definitely_ here. He was right here. Right in front of her. So close that she could smell the chamomile and vanilla scent of her body wash.

“Alright,” he shrugged, rubbing a hand towel through his hair. A sleepy smile on his face. “Where are your clothes?”

She choked out a laugh, bringing her fingers up to her lips.

“Or I guess I have mine,” he smirked, noticing his suitcase and bag sitting by the bed. “But if you want me to wear yours, then I will.” He winked.

“Oh my God—” She laughed, feeling her face start to heat up. “Just put something on.” She said as she rushed over to find herself something to change into. "And take your medicine!"

She couldn’t look at him right now, not when he looked like _that_. With this shit-eating grin on his face and his ears poking out of his hair. Because if she kept looking at him, then she was going to jump on him again, and she _really_ needed to take a shower. An ice cold shower.

So, she gathered a pair of flannel sleep shorts and a t-shirt, ignoring the little, silk negligee that Rose had managed to slip into her bag, and then all-but _ran_ into the bathroom. Her chest heaving through a pant; her skin flushed and warm.

Rey _knew_ what her problem was.

She wanted to sleep with him.

That was it.

She wanted to ride that extra-large, freestanding refrigerator into the mattress.

But it just didn’t feel right yet. She wasn’t _there_ yet. And she hated that she wasn’t there yet. Because she loved this man with every cell in her body, and she knew that he loved her with every cell in his. So, why couldn’t she just _let go?_ What was she hanging onto? It wasn’t like he would leave her afterwards, or that he was just going to run off again. If anything, the poor man would fall right to sleep.

Yet, every time she thought about being that vulnerable with him, or showing her body to him, she would start to hyperventilate. And the most infuriating part of it was that she didn’t know how to make that nervousness _stop._ Or how to voice all of the things that she was afraid of without sounding like she was crazy, or overreacting, or worrying about something that shouldn’t even matter.

It was just a body. But it was _her_ body. And the only person that had ever seen it was _him_. Well, and Rose, once, whenever she was nine months pregnant and got stuck in a bathtub. But still. She had never been intimate with anyone else, or vulnerable with anyone else, other than _him_.

And not because she was trying to be some sort of moral zealot. Or because she had spent all of this time waiting around for him to come back to her. Because she hadn’t. She had _wanted_ him to come back. Sure. But she wasn’t _waiting_ for him to.

And finding someone else to fall in love with just wasn’t something that she had ever wanted enough to work towards. Not only because she wasn’t interested in having casual sex, but because Rey’s focus had always been on other things. Like, creating a stable home for her daughter, or taking online classes and finishing her bachelor’s degree, or building up her own business and making sure that it was successful and something that she could feel good about.

She wasn’t sitting in a corner crying over Ben Solo.

She was making something of herself.

But now that fate had thrown her for a loop, Rey genuinely wanted to be intimate with him. She wanted soft, slow morning sex with the sunlight coming in through the window, or maybe try something a little more _risqué_ , like what was in those erotic, Harlequin novels that she hid from Ani.

And if she asked him, she knew that Ben would give it to her.

So, why couldn’t she just _ask_?

Why was it so hard to just say the words?

She had already kissed the man for crying out loud! And she was just as eager to do it again. Yet, the thought of going any further than that was terrifying. Because what if, whenever they did have sex again, he started comparing her, in his mind, to someone else? Someone that was much better at it, or more experienced, than she was? Or what if she would never be able to stop thinking about him being with other people?

She didn’t want to be angry at him for that, and she didn’t want it to be the reason that they couldn’t move forward. Because Ben had been open with her from the start. He had laid everything out, told her the truth even when he didn’t have to, and she knew that they were both strong enough to get past this. And they could do it _together_.

But she needed to be honest with him first.

To tell him what she was afraid of, without just expecting him to already know.

So, when she walked out of the bathroom, hair wet and framing her face, that was what she intended to do. She wanted to talk to him about what she was afraid of, explain to him that she loved him and wanted him and hoped that sometime in the near future she would be ready to let him all the way in, not just part.

But when she turned the corner, he wasn’t there.

“Ben?” She whispered, looking at the bed and finding it empty.

Her heart started to race, scared that he had left, but then she took a few steps further, finding him sprawled out on a sofa that was much too small for him, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. He had one of his legs hanging off the side, his arms crossed over his chest, with his head elevated on the back of it, his cheek pressed into the cushion.

She breathed out a quiet laugh, a soft smile on her face, and then eased over and sat down next to him, watching his shoulders rise and fall. The bruise on his neck was even more pitiful up close, causing her stomach to twist into a tight knot, and his breathing sounded somewhat raspy if she listened close enough. But she had comfort in knowing that he wasn’t going to be abused like this anymore. That he was going to get away from Snoke.

Yet, it still didn’t make it hurt any less, just knowing that something like this had happened to him. Or, according to Hux, _had been_ happening to him.

She leaned forward, ever so slowly, and placed a kiss along the column of his throat where the worst of it was, and felt him swallow, but never stir. He was out of it. But she didn’t want him sleeping here, cramped up on a tiny sofa. Not when there was a perfectly good-sized bed just a few feet away from them.

“Ben?” She said again, brushing a lock of hair from his face, before running her fingers through it, grazing his scalp. “Ben, wake up.”

When her thumb circled around the shell of his ear, he sprang forward, jolting awake. His whole body locking up; his hands clenched to fists.

“It’s okay!” She told him softly, breathing just as hard as he was. “It’s me! It’s just me.”

“I’m— I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…“

She ran her hand along his forehead, getting the rest of his hair out of the way. “It’s okay.”

“Rey, you know I would never—“ He swallowed hard. His hands opening back up; his voice coming out in a hoarse croak. “I would never hit you. You know that, right?”

She smiled at him, nodding. “I know.”

“What I did to Snoke — I would never…”

“Ben,” she cupped the side of his face, watching his eyes water. Which only made hers water. “ _I know_.”

He was panting hard, almost like she had pulled him out of a nightmare. His eyes wild. “Is something wrong?”

She snorted out an airy laugh, “No. I just wanted you to come to bed.”

He cocked his head to the side, looking at the king-sized mattress, before turning back to her. “You can take the bed. I can sleep here.”

“We can _both_ take the bed,” she said as she reached for his hand and stood up. “Besides, I— I need to tell you something. And I know that I’m probably being a little selfish right now, because the timing is selfish, but I just—I need to say it…”

He squinted up at her, one eye shut, noticing the hitch in her voice. But that hitch quickly got him to his feet. His mind already wondering what he did wrong. And he started to ask her, because if he had done something wrong, then he would fix it. But she was pulling him towards the bed, all-but demanding that he get in it before she said whatever it was that she wanted to tell him.

And he wasn’t about to deny her anything, so he sat down on the mattress, watching her climb over to the other side.

“Is everything alright?” He blinked as he carefully laid back, turning towards her.

They were both face to face, their heads pressed into a pillow, close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m leading you on,” she whispered, frowning.

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t.”

“And I want you to know that when I kissed you today— it was because I wanted to.” She admitted, licking her lips. “I still want to. But I keep, I keep thinking about you being with someone else.”

She could see his face sink, even in the dark. His worry and regret and guilt rolling off of him with so much force that she could practically _feel_ every bit of it.

“And I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m not — I’m not trying to hurt you.” She whimpered, shaking her head. She wished that she could do this _without_ crying, because she didn’t want to cry. She wanted to _heal_. But then again, maybe the healing was just on the other side of crying. “But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of letting go, and letting myself be vulnerable with you again. Or sleeping with you again. Even if I want to. Even if it’s all I’ve thought about. Because I—“ She sniffed, feeling the tears slip down her nose and soak into the pillow. “I’m afraid that I won’t be enough. Or that you'll always be comparing me to someone else. Someone that was better.”

He reached over, ever so gently, and brushed his thumb beneath both of her eyes, wiping away the tears and just — _listening_.

“And I don't want to think that. Because I love you. I do. I love you so much.” She took his hand before he could pull it away, clinging to it. And when he scooted closer to her, letting her speak, she kept going, wanting to get it all out in the open. “But it hurts to know that you've been with someone that isn't _me_. Because—because when you left...“ She inhaled a sharp breath, feeling those words move through her without sticking, or lingering. “I didn’t want to just go out and find someone else. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. And I don’t think, at the time, that I wanted to be with _you_ either. I just wanted to _be._ You know?”

He nodded, but still said nothing.

“I wanted to be a good mom to Ani,” she pressed on. “For her to grow up in a good home, the way that I did. But I also wanted to finish school. So, I started taking classes online. Got a bachelor’s degree in Business.” She smiled through her tears, squeezing his hand. “Then, once I did that, I wanted to have something that was _mine_. Something that I could feel good about. So, I— I took out a loan from the bank and bought Mrs. Holdo’s flower shop whenever she was going to sell it.”

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, and waited for her to tell him more — to tell him all of it. He wanted to know everything.

“I know that it’s not much, and I’m so far in debt that I’ll probably never find my way out of it,” She half-laughed, causing him to smile. “But it’s mine. And I’m really proud of it. So, I wasn’t— I wasn’t just waiting for you to come back to me. I didn’t wait for you.”

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay that you didn’t.”

“But I just, I feel like you and I have lost all of this time. Time that we should’ve had _together_. And I don’t know how to get it back.” She choked out a quiet sob, bringing her free hand up to her face. “I want it back, Ben.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t get it back.” He bit his lip, shaking his head. “I wish that we could, because I would’ve _loved_ to watch you bring our daughter into the world. Or watch you graduate _college_.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into hers, listening to her whimper. “And see you cut one of those, what are they called? The rope that you cut whenever you open a new store?”

She choked out a watery laugh, shifting closer to him until she was snuggled into his chest. Her cheek was pressed into the front of his shoulder, with one of his hands stroking the back of her head, while the other brushed her hair out of her eyes and massaged that little place behind her ear.

“Like an opening ribbon?” She chuckled as she brought her hand to his side, holding onto him. “I didn’t have one of those.”

“You should’ve.” He said as he kissed her forehead. “Is there such thing as a grand re-opening? So, we can do it again?”

“I don’t think so,” she snorted. “But I really like the sound of _we_.”

“Good,” he whispered into her hairline. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I know that my word doesn't mean much anymore, but I would _never_ compare you to someone else. Because there isn't anyone that's even comparable to you. You're _it_ for me. And if you'll let me, then I'll spend the rest of my life _showing you_ just how much I mean that."

She licked her lips, drawing in a deep breath, and then peered up at him. Their faces so close that she could feel his breath warm her cheeks. “Then, come home with me.” She said quietly, watching his brows pinch. “ _Tomorrow_. Or today, I guess? Just… Come home with me.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t yet—“

She craned her neck up, brushing her lips against his, feeling him immediately open up to her. His chest rumbling through a moan as his tongue swept against hers.

“Please, come home with me.” She breathed into his mouth, her fingers gripping onto the side of his shirt. “Just give me this _one_ thing. Please.”

His hand was splayed across the side of her head; his breaths coming out labored and strained. He was half-hard, because obviously, but they were turned in a way where she wouldn’t notice. Or, at least, he prayed that she didn’t notice.

“Okay,” he choked out, his jaw tight.

“Okay? Meaning you will?” Her face spread into a smile. “Tomorrow? Or, I mean, today?

He snorted, nuzzling his nose into her temple. “As soon as we wake up.”

She let out a relieved sigh, and then settled back into him, fitting into his arms like a glove. She had been willing to fight harder for that, but she was somewhat thankful that she didn’t have to. That he was willing to do it simply because she asked him to.

Then, after his heartbeat started to slow, with her head still cradled in his hands, Rey let herself drift off to sleep along with him. Knowing that they were one step closer to finding their way back to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sorry.


	18. I Get To Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey practice self-care.
> 
> Ben, Rey, Rose, and Hux take a road trip.
> 
> Our favorite little nugget is back, and she gets a BIG surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! AND I'VE BROUGHT A MOODBOARD WITH ME.
> 
> First off, I'm sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out. I've really missed you all. But I've had so much going on and I needed time to get this chapter ready. But it's here! And it's so fluffy and sweet and will hopefully make you laugh. If you squint, you might even be able to see a plot. And I've also added a little smut-ish content, simply because I wanted to. *shrugs* 
> 
> Also, I want to thank those of you that have shared this fic on Twitter. You don't have to do that, but it makes me a little teary when you do. So, thank you. I really appreciate it. AND to Aniella for commissioning the cutest tea party fanart that may or may not have made me SOB. Y'all are so, so amazing.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "I Get To Love You" by Ruelle.

Rey woke up first.

Her eyes fluttering open, drinking in the sunlight.

Her left leg was so numb that each of her toes were tingling.

She hadn’t slept that deep, or that _good_ , in ages, and a part of her wanted to slip right back into it, because good things were hard to let go of. But whenever she glanced down, feeling a familiar heaviness lying on top of her, she quickly realized that certain things were worth waking up to.

And this was one of them.

They must have switched places at some point in the night. Because the last thing she remembered, before they both succumbed to exhaustion, was Ben holding her.

Now, though, she was lying on her back and he had his head on her chest, with his cheek burrowed in the valley of her breasts and both arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her in his sleep.

 _Definitely worth waking up to_.

She bit her lip and grinned, watching him drool all over the front of her shirt. A wet spot already soaked into the fabric. His face was smooshed to one side, all puckered and crumpled and gathered around his nose and mouth, and it was taking everything that she had to keep from laughing at him. Because _this_ was too precious, and just knowing that he was so comfortable and so relaxed that he was _literally_ drooling made her heart so full that she couldn’t believe that it was still beating. But she knew that if she laughed, then her whole body would shake. And if she shook, even a little bit, then Ben might wake up. And she didn’t want him to wake up yet. She wanted him to rest.

So, she held in her mirth, tightening her lips and fighting back even the smallest of chuckles, and then slowly tried to pull her arms out from beneath his shoulders, feeling him squeeze her a little tighter.

_I’m not going anywhere._

She smiled softly, watching him nestle even further into her chest.

Then, after waiting for him to get situated, she brought her hands back down. Letting one lie on top of his bicep, at the seam of his shirt sleeve, while the other combed through his hair, grazing her nails along his scalp.

“I’ve missed this,” she whispered. The words hardly audible.

She knew that she should’ve stopped there, with no more than a few gentle strokes, just enough to move his hair out of his face. Because Ben was a light sleeper, and regardless of how bone-tired he was, it wouldn’t take much to rouse him. Especially when _she_ was the one doing the rousing. And she genuinely didn’t want him to get up yet. She wanted him to stay right where he was.

But touching Ben, much like kissing him, was positively addictive.

And once she started, she simply couldn’t stop.

So, she didn’t.

Instead, she reached out and brushed her fingers in an arch around his temple, before continuing along his cheekbone, towards his nose. Admiring all of the moles on his skin. The way his lashes curled. How warm he was. She was being so gentle, so careful, exploring the edges of his face with a barely-there tenderness. Then, as she began to trace the shape of his lips, all swollen and pink and _hers,_ she saw his chin give a little, reflexive wobble, and he started mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like her name.

“Are you dreaming about me?” She smiled even harder. Her eyes squinting as she swept the back of her fingers along the length of his jaw. Savoring each little twitch and spasm, and listening to the way he _purred_ whenever the pad of her thumb made a pass around the shell of his ear.

It felt so wholesome and tender. Being able to watch him sleep.

But the more Rey touched him, the more his body reacted to it.

Not just because he was a healthy, twenty-seven year old man with a fully functional vascular system. But because it was _her._ And it didn’t matter if Ben was wide awake, or if he was knocked out cold, his brain was still hard-wired to respond to her.

So, truthfully, it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise whenever he canted his hips and she could feel his erection against her thigh—firm and long and unmistakably _familiar_.

Yet, it was a surprise.

It was most definitely a surprise.

And when she jolted _from_ that surprise, her leg accidentally bumped against it, kneeing him in the groin, and causing him to let out this low, fluttering _whimper_ that was equally as accidental.

_Oh, God._

_I'm sorry._

_I’m so sorry._

She puffed her cheeks, brows pinched, eyes clamped shut, looking every bit as embarrassed as she felt. Because she literally just kneed him in the dick. _Right_ in the dick. His actual dick. And if that wasn’t awkward enough, when she tried to move out from under him, she ended up doing it again. Only _this time,_ it woke him up.

His head springing back like a rock flung from a slingshot.

His face scrunched, still half asleep and looking completely disoriented, with this adorably-endearing, _scar-like_ mark up his cheek from where he had been lying in the same spot for too long

“Good morning,” Rey whispered, feeling her face heat up.

“Morning.” He said with a groggy smile, then pulled an arm out from under her and rubbed his fist around his eye, trying to wake up. “Did you sleep good?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded quickly. Swallowing hard.

Did he even realize that his…

Yeap.

He did now.

“ _Shit,_ ” Ben staggered to his feet in a hurry. Nearly tripping on the comforter. “Rey, sweetheart, I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t—” He was making a conscientious, yet futile, attempt to hide his erection. Cupping a hand over the tent in his sweatpants. Trying to readjust himself. “I’m just—I’m gonna go shower.” He pointed towards the bathroom, almost like he was trying to remind himself of where it was.

He was gone before she had time to tell him that it was okay, or explain that it was kind-of, sort-of, _maybe_ her fault. Or that despite the flush spreading from her neck to her face, making her skin look like the inside of a ripe watermelon, she honestly wasn’t _that_ embarrassed.

It had just been awhile since she had felt an erect penis. Plus, this was _his_ penis. And even though she was still a little gun-shy, and not ready for him to see her naked yet, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t _interested_ in said penis.

“Really, Rey?” She mumbled under her breath. “You’re a grown woman. Just say cock. His cock. _Ben’s_ cock. His big, long, thick _cock_ …”

She licked her lips as the shower turned on, her head turning to the side,listening to the sound of him stepping in. Her heart felt like it was beating between her legs—causing a familiar throb to start pulsing, and clenching, and tingling, like an itch that was begging to be scratched.

And at first, she tried to fight it. Rubbing her thighs together. Thinking about all of the things that she needed to do whenever she got home, like: laundry, or dishes, or mopping, or dusting her TV stand, or watering the flowers on the porch.

Anything other than _this._

Because Rey didn’t do _this_.

Well, she did _this._

She _definitely_ did this.

She just didn’t do it _like_ this.

She was more of a lock-the-door, light-a-few-candles, make-sure-no-one-was-around kind of girl.

But fighting it only made her want it, and need it, that much more.

And if Ben could do it, then why couldn’t she?

So, with a deep, albeit shaky, breath, Rey slowly slid her hand down her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, feeling the elastic lining stretch to let her in. Then, she bent her leg, shifting it outward, and closed her eyes—having no trouble imagining what he would look like underneath the spray, with the water gliding over his shoulders and down his back. His forehead pressing against the shower wall. More than likely stroking himself a lot harder than she would’ve.

She crooked her fingers inside, gathering just enough wetness to start circling her clit. Slow at first, the way she liked it, before building up to a faster, harder pace. Her toes curling into the sheets; her mind focused on Ben and how desperate he would want to come, or how he would beg her to let him.

“ _Yes_ ,” she sighed, biting her lip. “ _Come for me_. _Just like that. I want you to come._ ”

She was already so wet, too wet, so it was hard to gain any traction. And regardless of how good it felt, or how bad she wanted it, Rey wasn’t one of those people that could give herself a quick orgasm. So, for her, it took time, and effort, and a very vivid imagination.

Which was why she immediately started to panic whenever she heard the shower turn off.

_Are you kidding me?_

_You’re already done?_

She picked up the pace, kneading her bud with the right amount of pressure to make her pulse race, all-while sifting through each of her fantasies in hopes that one of them would push her over the edge.

And, surprisingly, for someone who openly blushed every time sex was mentioned, Rey wasn’t short on material.

But she knew that it wouldn’t take long for Ben to dry off, get redressed, and then come waltzing out of the bathroom with a spring in his step. And as much as she loved the idea of him walking out, seeing her like this, and then having to turn right back around and take another shower, she still didn’t want to get caught masturbating to the thought of him dressed in a suit, with an FBI badge clipped on his jacket, roleplaying as Special Agent Mulder from the X-Files.

So, she fought _harder_.

Rubbing over and over in tight circles. Imagining all of the things that he would say to her, or do to her, or let _her_ do to _him._ And when that sweet, sweet pinnacle started to feel within reach, she concentrated on his belt jingling loose, his hand nervously fumbling on the zipper, and his eyes begging her to take him into her mouth.

Then, right as he said _please_ , the bathroom door opened, and she was _there._

She was _right_ there.

Her thighs shaking as a wave of electricity spread from her clit, up through her belly, and into her chest. Her spine arching off of the bed until her hips were digging into the mattress. It felt like a dying star had suddenly exploded, and something inside of her had just _snapped_ in two. And although she was trying to be quiet, it hit her with so much _force_ that she couldn't keep a moan from slipping out. The sound tearing through her throat, all winded and heady and _perfect_ —causing Ben to stop dead in his tracks.

He was standing in the doorway, just out of sight, with his hands braced on both sides of the doorframe. She couldn’t see him, _thank God,_ but his head was tilted back, and his eyes were looking up at the ceiling, mouthing the word “ _Fuck_ ” to whichever angel happened to be assigned to him today.

He knew what she had done. Or, better yet, he knew what that sound had meant. Because if there was one thing that his musically-inclined brain had committed to memory, it was the little noise she made whenever she came.

But she had told him that intimacy, specifically intimacy with _him_ , wasn’t something that she wanted, or was ready for, so Ben was trying not to think about it. He was _really_ trying not to think about it. Because thinking about it would mean taking another shower, and she had only brought one of those small, travel-sized bottles of body wash, and it was already half-empty, and he didn’t know if she wanted to shower now that she had—

_FUCK._

He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw, and then forced himself to focus on something else. Literally anything else. Like getting stuck in LA traffic. Or having to sit through an entire meeting that could’ve been summed up in an email. Or people that poured the milk before the cereal. _Anything_ other than her hand on her cunt, or _his_ hand on her cunt, or—

“Ben?”

His eyes popped open, swallowing hard. “Yeah?” He called back, rubbing his face into the crook of his elbow to wipe off the sweat.

“Are you, um— Did you just—“

She sounded nervous. Maybe even a little panicked. So, he pressed his lips together, exhaling through his nose, and then quickly tried to steady himself, before walking out of the bathroom. His steps slow, yet eager. His lips curling into a smug smirk that, honestly, he couldn’t help.

 _“_ Did I what?” He arched his brow.

She was lying in the center of the bed, boneless and pliant and as red as a cherry. And he knew that she was embarrassed, because she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes staring down at her stomach as she fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. Her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.

He cocked his head, easing over to the foot of the bed, and then leaned down, his hands splayed across the mattress, and waited for her to either look at him, or answer him. It didn’t really matter which. He just wanted _something._ And it took her a minute, but eventually her eyes found his, and she looked like she was about to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

He knew what was wrong, and she knew that he knew what was wrong.

“I’m— I was—“

_I’m mortified._

_I’m humiliated._

_I was masturbating to the thought of you in an FBI uniform, begging me to let you come._

Ben smirked, which only seemed to make her that much more flustered. “You were what?” He asked her. His voice low and hoarse. “What were you doing, sweetheart?”

She raised up on her elbows, frowning at him. “Don’t act like you weren’t doing it too!”

“I’m not.” He shrugged casually, watching her throat dip as she swallowed. “As a matter of fact, I damn near sprained my wrist.”

 _That_ got her to laugh.

A full-blown belly laugh.

One that made his heart beat a little faster every time he heard it.

“It’s not funny,” Ben furrowed his brows, feigning offense, before crawling up the bed until they were face-to-face. “Carpal tunnel is a very serious medical condition.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, blinking up at him. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“ _Mhm_ ,” he grinned, then brought his mouth down to hers, stopping a breath away.

He was waiting for her to tell him no, or to give any sort of indication that she didn’t want him to kiss her. Because if she didn’t, then he wouldn’t. But before he had a chance to pick up on any of her tell-tell signs, Rey was already _surging_ forward, practically head-butting him.

Her hands cupping his jaw; her lips opening up to let him in.

He didn’t hesitate to take it, following her back down to the pillow and sighing whenever he felt her legs spread open to give him a place to settle. He pressed his dick into the mattress, so that it wouldn’t get any bright ideas, and then ran his hand up the curve of her waist, stopping at her ribs, with her t-shirt still in place, because he was a fucking gentleman.

But when she dug her fingers into his hair, clinging to him like some kind of feral kitten, his brain immediately started to short-circuit until the only semi-coherent sentences that he could string together were… _Ben love Rey. Ben make baby with Rey. Ben make Rey happy._

And then all of a sudden, he was just as feral as she was. Wanting her to know just how much he loved her, or how proud he was that they had made a baby together, and that he was going to spend whatever time he had left on this earth making her happy.

“I love you,” he said in a breath, dipping his lips down to her cheek, then to her jaw, before leaving opened mouth kisses along the column of her throat. His tongue flattening on her pulse point, making her gasp. “ _Love you so fucking much_. Gonna make you so happy, baby. I promise.”

“I know. I love—I love you too.”

He brushed his lips across her clavicle, working his way down to her chest. And he would’ve kept going. He would’ve kissed every inch of her, from head to toe, if that was what she wanted him to do. But right when he started to scoot down the bed, her stomach let out this loud, unmistakable rumble. And both of them froze.

He glanced up at her, his hair falling over his forehead, his brow raised. “Are you hungry?”

“Maybe a little.”

He exhaled a laugh, kissing her chest, right over her heart, then looked up again. “You wanna order room service?”

She bit her lip, nodding quickly.

He dove towards her mouth, pecking her again—short and sweet and chaste—before climbing off the bed, a spring very much in his step, and then walked over to the dresser to find the menu.

“You think they’ll still let us get breakfast?” She asked as she rose up, sitting cross-legged against the headboard. “I mean, it’s almost noon.”

“Do you want breakfast?” He glanced over his shoulder, picking up a white, laminated booklet before making his way back to her.

She nodded again.

“Then we’re getting breakfast.” He shrugged, plopping down beside her.

“But what if this is one of those places where they stop serving it at a certain time?”

“Then I’ll go down to the kitchen and make it myself.”

She snorted as she took the menu.

It was one of those fancy ones, where the names of each item had been doctored-up to sound a bit more sophisticated, even though she could’ve ordered the exact same thing at an iHop.

She looked up at Ben. Their shoulders pressed together. “Do you know what you want?”

“Do you know what _you_ want?”

“You can’t just answer my question with another question.”

“And you can’t choose what you want based on what I’m getting.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Fine. I want pancakes. Blueberry. No! Chocolate chip. Do they even have those?” She frowned as she read over the list. “Wait… Twenty dollars for a pancake?!”

“Get whatever you want.” Ben shrugged, “Armie’s paying for it.”

She grinned, “Well, in that case, I want bacon too. And strawberries. Oh, and French toast.” She licked her lips, her excitement already building as she glanced over at him. “Now—what do you want?”

His mouth spread into a sideways smirk, “Whatever you’re getting.”

“ _Oh_ , _Ben Solo— you snake_ ,” she reached over, pinching him in the ribs.

—————

They were sitting out on the hotel balcony, in the heart of Midtown, where they could look to the right and find their unmade bed through a pair of opened French doors, or to the left and see a sprawling, concrete metropolis covered in giant office buildings, condominiums, hotels, museums, and libraries. And it was all so overwhelmingly magnetic, from the post-modern edifice, to the congested streets, to the thrill of simply _being there_ , surrounded by so much energy and life and busyness, coming at them from all directions.

But the only direction that Ben gave a damn about was right in front of him.

Because on the other side of a round, metal table, still in her pajamas, with a mouthful of pancakes and a syrup stain on the front of her shirt, was the center of his universe. The actual center of it. And he had no idea how long he had been staring at her. No fucking clue. But she clearly didn’t seem to mind it. Because she just smiled and kept on eating. Her cheeks rosy and warm and puffed like a little, fox squirrel. Her tongue poking out ever so often to lap up whatever bite she had missed.

They had ordered nearly everything on the breakfast menu: spinach and mushroom omelettes, both blueberry _and_ chocolate chip pancakes, a bowl of fresh berries, pork sausage and smoked bacon, a basket of puff pastries sprinkled with powdered sugar, and a plate of French toast. And every bit of it was spread out in front of them, taking up the entirety of the table, leaving no space for elbows, or fancy placement settings, or the floral centerpiece that was now sitting on the ground to make more room.

He had started to ask her, earlier, if the food was good, or if she liked it, or if she wanted anything else. And the only reason that he didn’t was because Rey had started digging in before he even had time to roll his silverware out of the napkin. But he figured that the happy, little hums she made after every few bites was as good of an answer as any.

Which was how he ended up staring at her in the first place.

A glass of orange juice raised up to his mouth. Smiling behind the rim.

“Ethereal.” He said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Rey peered over at him, licking a clump of powdered sugar off of her bottom lip. “What?”

“Ethereal,” he repeated, taking a drink. “That’s your word.”

Her brows pinched together, not understanding what he meant.

“Last night, in the elevator—“ He continued. “I told you that there wasn’t a word for what you are. You said that I was too tired to think of one.” He sat the glass back down on the table, wedged between a plate of eggs and a serving bowl of hollandaise. “Well, I’ve slept since then. And now I’ve thought of one— _ethereal_.”

She slowly started to smile, looking a little unsure. “I have syrup on the front of my shirt.” She glanced down, then back up to him. “I haven’t brushed my hair, or my teeth, since yesterday. And I’m pretty sure there’s cream cheese up my nose.” She giggled, wiping it with the back of her hand. “Yet, you think I’m ethereal?”

He picked up his fork, cutting off a bite of his omelette, “Yeap.” He nodded, popping the P, before shoveling it into his mouth. “You want some of this?” He pointed towards his plate.

She let out another laugh, finding his carefree casualness amusing, and then shook her head no. “Do you want some of my pancakes?”

“You mean, do I want to lick the rest of the syrup off the plate?” He huffedbefore scooping up another bite. “Tempting. But no.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged, then plucked a strip of bacon from the pile. “But, just so we’re clear, I still think we should bag this up and take it with us.” She wiggled her finger, pointing at the table. “It’s a long drive home, and it’ll save us from having to stop for snacks.”

He raised his brow, smirking at her. “We’ll still end up stopping for snacks.”

“Wow. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you won’t make it through a five and a half hour drive without wanting to stop somewhere.” He said with so much certainty that it made her face scrunch up in a frown. “I know you. You’ll have to pee. Or you’ll get thirsty. Or you’ll start thinking about Skittles, or Kettle chips, and then decide that you want some.”

Rey sank in her seat—crossing her arms low enough to where he could still see the syrup stain on her shirt. “We’re not stopping for snacks.”

—————

They stopped for snacks.

But in her defense, they didn’t stop _specifically_ for snacks.

They stopped because Rose’s gas light had come on a few miles north of Albany. So, unless the four of them wanted to walk the rest of the way to Chandrila, then they had no choice but to pull over.

The fact that they had pulled over at a convenient store, where snacks were aplenty, was merely a coincidence.

One that Rey had every right to take advantage of.

“Do you want anything?” She glanced at Ben—watching him glare at the back of the driver’s seat.

He had his arms crossed over his chest, brows knitted, bottom lip drawn in at the corner, chewing on it.

He looked incredibly waspish.

Kind of like an old man that couldn’t seem to keep the neighborhood kids off of his lawn.

Yet, the second he heard her voice, he softened.

Whipping his head to the side. Mumbling a quiet “ _Hmm_?”

She pressed her lips together, fighting a grin. _“_ Do you want anything?”

“I—Sure.” He nodded, trying not to look so grumpy while simultaneously looking grumpy. “Here. Take—“

“I think I can afford it.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Now, what do you want?”

He slowly drew his hand out of his pocket. The corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Surprise me.”

She arched her brow, grinned, and then climbed out of the car.

She knew by the kicked-puppy look on his face that he wanted to go in with her. That he wanted to follow her around while she piled snack after snack after snack into his arms, and then dump all of it onto the counter and argue about who was going to pay for it.

But Luke had made it _very clear—_ after their little, impromptu Sunday luncheon at his apartment—that if Ben was going to go back to Chandrila, in the middle of a full-scale media storm, then he wasn’t allowed to be seen anywhere. That was the only way they were able to convince Luke to let him leave the city. No public appearances. Even if that public appearance was at a Sunoco gas station just outside of Albany. Or even if Ben kept his head down, wore a pair of sunglasses, and hid under a trench coat. He still had to stay out of sight. And that meant staying in the car.

Which was why he had become so adorably sour and crabby to begin with.

Because he couldn’t get out of the car.

And Rose, _God love her_ , drove a 2013 Honda Fit that, contrary to the name, Ben didn’t fit in.

So, for the last three hours, his knees had been shoved into the back of the driver’s seat—cramped and stiff and sore—and his head kept bumping into the roof every time Rose ran over a pot hole. But the worst part was that he couldn’t manspread like he normally would, because there was literally nowhere for him to spread. Not when his duffle bag was in the floorboard, crowding his feet. Or Hux’s backpack was mashed into his calf, boxing him in.

He wanted to get out and walk around. Stretch his legs for a bit. Breathe in some fresh air. Chain-smoke a whole pack of cigarettes. After that, he’d be much better equipped to spend the next two hours listening to Rose and Hux play the _plate game_ —where every time they saw an out of state license plate, they gave themselves a point. Two, if the car was from Canada.

A game that, Ben learned, had no real winner, or purpose, or _fucking point_.

Which was why he had decided, after about thirty minutes of hearing the two of them shout, “ _PENNSYLVANIA, WISCONSIN, MAINE, MASSACHUSETTS, WISCONSIN AGAIN,_ ” that this game wasn’t going to be something that the Solo’s played on long road trips.

That was some shit that the Hux’s did.

His crew would play fucking, _I Spy With My Little Eye_ , like normal fucking people.

Unless Rey wanted to play the plate game?

Did she want to play the plate game?

She was standing in line at the counter, cradling two bottles of water, a pack of Skittles, a bag of jalapeño-flavored Kettle chips, a cherry popsicle—and a soft pretzel for Ben. She didn’t know why he had such an affinity for these. Not when there were hundreds of cookies and pastries and chips and candies, in every flavor known to man.

Yet, for some reason, pretzels, specifically soft pretzels, had always been his go-to indulgence. So, as soon as she saw them in the Hot & Ready display, she couldn’t _wait_ to get back to the car and show him that she had bought him one. Which was probably absurd, or a bit ridiculous, being _this_ excited over a pretzel. But she loved him. And she wanted him to know that she still remembered all of the things that he liked.

Besides, if this warm, intricately woven piece of sourdough would make him just a _little_ less moody, then maybe Rose would stop glaring at him through the rearview mirror.

“Is that a popsicle?”

Rey nearly jumped out of her skin, looking over her shoulder.

Rose was standing behind her, holding a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, a Snickers bar, at least twenty Slim Jims, and two more bottles of water—with this shit-eating grin on her face. Almost like a cat with a mouthful of feathers. Dubious and wary and trying not to spit them all out.

“Yeah?” Rey frowned thoughtfully. “Why? Should I not get it?”

“No, no. You should. You _definitely_ should.” Rose said eagerly, letting out a laugh that she tried to play off as a cough. “It’ll perk Solo _right up_.”

“What? No. This isn’t for Ben,” Rey shook her head as she moved up a place in line. “It’s for me.”

“Uh huh.” Rose smirked. “Like I said… _right up_.”

Rey’s face scrunched into an awkward, yet amused, smile—wondering if there was a joke somewhere that she was missing.

There probably was, since it was Rose.

But before _popsicles_ , and _Ben Solo_ , and _her mouth,_ had time to send off any alarm bells, Rey was next to check out. So, the thought slowly got lost in between barcode beeps and inserting her chip into the card reader. Then, by the time they walked out of the gas station and headed towards the car, she had forgotten all about it.

Too busy thinking about Ben and pretzels and how big he was going to smile.

He was right where she had left him—crammed into the backseat with his arms still crossed. He looked slightly less grumpy now that she was back, but not enough to smooth the creases between his brows.

She was about to change that though.

She was _really_ about to change that.

Except, she thought, _Bless her heart,_ that the pretzel would be what did it.

And to be fair, she wasn’t _entirely_ wrong. Because when she slid in beside him, and held it out in her fingers, there it was. The biggest grin that he could’ve given her. His dimples digging into his cheeks; his eyes squinting as he blew out an airy laugh. Then, all of the hard lines of his face became so soft and so boyish that it made her heart flutter. 

Just that one, simple thing.

A smile so genuine, yet so _him_ , that she suddenly felt like she was floating.

“I haven’t had one of these in _years_.” He chuckled, staring at it, moving it around. His earlobes turning just a _slight_ touch of pink. “My grandmother used to make them.”

“I know,” She smiled warmly, tilting her head. “That’s why I bought it.”

_“Good girl.”_

His eyes widened, wishing he could take it back the second he said it.

“Fuck. Rey, I’m—I didn’t.” His ears were red now. Blood red. “I’m sorry. That was—”

She hurried across the backseat. Either to stop him from apologizing, or to get him to say it again. Maybe both. _Probably_ both. No, definitely both. And, yes, it was such a little thing. An accidental slip of the tongue. Something that he didn’t even _mean_ to say. But her reaction to it was completely _visceral._ Needing to get to him, and not caring that they weren’t alone in the car. Or that Rose was staring wide-eyed through the rearview mirror. Or that Hux had turned all the way around in the passenger seat.

Because all Rey could think about was showing him just how _good_ she could be.

Sure, she could’ve been a little more graceful about it, but it wouldn’t be _her_ if she didn’t get her foot hung in Hux’s backpack strap, then tumble head-first into him. But thankfully, Ben had caught her, steadied her, and then smiled at her—all without dropping his pretzel.

_The showoff._

She cupped the side of his face, laughing, before pulling him the rest of the way. Her lips coaxing his mouth open; her head turning as they fell into a slow, yet somehow hungry, rhythm.

“Say it again,” she breathed into his throat.

“Which part?” He played dumb, his lips slowly smirking as he kissed her.

She pinched him in the shoulder, “You _know_ which part.”

“Ah.” He ran his hand up her thigh, over the fabric of her Midi-skirt, andthen stopped at her hip, drawing a circle over the bone with his thumb. “ _Good girl.”_

 _“OI!_ None of that!” Hux cried out in this hilariously terrible attempt at a British accent. His palm slamming onto the center console as if it were a table. “There’ll be no kinky shit in the Fit.”

Rey eased back slightly. “Did he just say _Oi_?” She whispered, squinting.

“Yeah.” Ben sighed. “He’s been watching _Peaky Blinders_. Just ignore him.”

She snorted, kissing him one more time, more of a quick peck, before moving back to her side of the car. Which made Ben groan. But she couldn’t exactly spend the next two hours on top of him.

Well, she _could_.

But—

She swallowed hard, and then started to reposition their bags. Wanting to make a little more room for him. Which was partly a distraction. Something to take her mind off his lips, or how soft they felt, or how much she wanted to feel them again. But it was _also_ the mom in her. Because he still looked so stiff and uncomfortable. And it wasn’t fair that Armie got to spread out, while Ben looked like a giant sequoia trying to grow in a greenhouse.

“Turn,” she instructed right when he was about to take a bite out of his pretzel. Her sudden determination catching him a little off-guard. “Put your feet over here, on my side.”

“Rey, it’s alright. I can—“

“Put your feet over here.” She repeated in the same voice she used whenever Ani wouldn’t listen, causing Ben to immediately _attempt_ to turn. Knocking Hux’s backpack over.

She shifted until her back was against the door, which made him surge forward, on instinct. His finger clicking the lock in place to keep it from accidentally opening while the car was moving. Their faces inches apart.

“What are you—“ He started to speak, his voice a bit confused, but she cut him off, pressing her lips into his, then pulled back, chuckling at the stunned look on his face.

“I’m going to put my legs in your lap.” She told him softly, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “So you’ll have more room.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She brushed her thumb across his cheek. “I want to.”

He nodded, figuring it would be best to just agree with her, then he eased back in his seat, relaxing, while she smoothed out her blue velvet, Midi-skirt—running her hands over her bottom, and down her thighs, straightening the fabric.

Then, she lifted her legs, letting them rest on top of his.

Which was how they could’ve been sitting from the very beginning, if _someone_ hadn’t been so stubborn.

“Is that better?”

“Much,” he half-smiled. His free hand lowering to her calf, resting just above her ankle. “Is this—Is this alright?”

She grinned and bobbed her head.

It was oddly endearing how he felt the need to ask her first, almost like he thought that she wouldn’t want him to touch her, when just a few minutes ago she was shoving her tongue down his throat. But knowing that Ben was so committed to respecting her boundaries, just made her want him that much more.

“So, what’d you get?” His voice cut through the silence, looking down at her bag of snacks.

“Oh, I got you a water!” She raised up, fumbling to find it.

“Thank you,” he smirked as she handed him the bottle. “But I meant what did you get for you.”

“Just some Skittles. A bag of chips.” She shrugged, before pulling each of them out, one by one. “And a popsicle.” She held it up, beaming at him. "Even though it's probably starting to melt by now."

She peeled off the wrapper—completely oblivious to the look that he was giving her, or how his pupils had become so dilated that his irises were black. But as soon as she flattened her tongue, licking up the entire length of it in one, fell swoop, before circling back around to keep the moisture from getting on her hand, Ben swallowed so hard that he choked.

 _Actually_ choked.

On the pretzel, no less.

Fortunately for him, a hard cough brought it right back up. But the jarring wasn’t doing his fractured larynx any favors. And neither was her licking and sucking and deep-throating that fucking— _fuck_!

Rey pulled the popsicle out of her mouth, eyes wide. “Ben, are you alright?”

“Yeap. Fine.”

Let the record show that it wasn’t a lie.

He was perfectly fine. He was better than fine. Because watching her lips wrap around a popsicle was just the gift that kept on giving. But if he had to watch her take the whole thing, like he _knew_ she could, then he was going to die, right here, on fucking Interstate 87.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Rose called out with just enough excitement to make Ben groan. “Would You Rather: Sex Edition. Girls against boys.”

This time, it was _Rey_ that choked.

Her eyes locking with Rose’s through the rearview mirror, subtly shaking her head no.

Well, more of a _no, God, please, no,_ a la Michael Scott in The Office.

But still a no, nonetheless.

“Is that an actual game?” Hux chimed in, knitting his brows. “Or one that you just made up?”

“Yes, it’s a game. And no, I didn’t make it up.” Rose countered, checking her side mirror before she veered over, switching lanes. “I found it on the Internet.”

Hux scoffed, “Of course you did.”

“Oh, come on!” She turned down the radio. “It’s not like any of you have anything better to do.”

“How does this game even work?” Hux asked as he gnawed off the end of his Slim Jim. “We ask each other who we’d rather fuck?”

“No names. No people.” Rose shook her head. “You can ask would you rather do this position, or that position. Or if you’d rather jerk off in public, or in front of your next of kin. But no names—“

“No people.” Hux nodded as he chewed. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

“But you have to explain your answers.” Rose pointed out. “That part is important. So, like, if I asked you if you would rather fuck from the front or from behind. Then, you have to tell us why you picked what you did.”

“Easy.” He shrugged. “I like watching your tits bounce.”

“Wow. Okay _.”_ Rey shifted uncomfortably, her leg brushing a little higher on Ben’s thigh—causing him to tense up _._

It was so quick that she could’ve been imagining it. This involuntary tightening of the muscle that didn’t even last more than a second before it relaxed again. But when she glanced over at him, he had this pained look on his face, with his jaw clenched and his head bowed. Looking like he had just gotten bad news and was still trying to process it. Which really shouldn’t have been a cause for concern, because this was Ben. And appearing aloof and unapproachable was his modus operandi. Yet, she couldn’t help but get this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Afraid that something might be wrong.

“Ben?” She said softly. “Is everything okay?”

“What?” His eyes snapped over to her. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because if you need me to move my legs, then I—”

“No!” He shook his head frantically. “You don’t—You don’t have to move.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, nodding at him. She was glad that he didn’t want her to, because she _really_ liked having his hand on her. Even if the positioning was completely platonic. Even if it was just kind of _there_. She still liked the feel of it. But _something_ was bothering him. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

And it wasn’t that he looked _angry_. Or even irritated. He just looked—worried.

_What are you worried about?_

She watched his eyes drop down her mouth, his throat working through a swallow as she pushed the popsicle back and forth through her lips, twirling it like a pinwheel. Then, when she pulled it out with a _pop_ , she not only _saw_ him sigh, she _felt_ it. The way his chest heaved. How the air in his lungs rushed out in a sharp burst. Or the fact that he didn’t look worried at all. He looked _wrecked._

And then it hit her.

All at once.

Like a southbound train at full speed.

_Popsicles. Ben Solo. Her mouth._

“So—” Hux piped in with.a mouth full of jerky. “Since ladies come first, ladies go first.”

“Wow. How selfless of you.” Rose turned away from the road long enough to roll her eyes at him. “Rey, do you want the first question?”

Rey was listening, but her eyes were still locked on Ben’s.

He was breathing so _deep_ , and so _slow_ , that it made every nerve in her body seem to catch on fire. Which was really saying something, since all he was doing was breathing. But it wasn’t _just_ that. It was also how he was looking at her, as if every single inhale was an exercise in restraint. Or the way his jaw seemed almost— _locked._

“You go first,” Rey licked her lips, tasting cherries, and then _smiled_ at him.

“Alright.” Rose drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Remember, you guys have to explain your answers. No pleading the fifth.” She paused for dramatic effect, pretending like her mind wasn’t filled with thousands of shameless questions. “So, would you rather—get your dick sucked standing up? Or sitting down?”

“Ooo, right outta the gate.” Hux’s eyes widened. “So, do Ben and I answer at the same time? Or?”

“I don’t care as long as you both answer.”

“Fine, sitting down.” Hux said as he finished off the rest of his Slim Jim before opening up another one. “It’s more comfortable. Benny?”

Ben _wasn’t_ listening.

He was too busy watching Rey circle her tongue around the popsicle, then lightly sucking on the tip—never once breaking eye contact. She had a slight flush to her cheeks, and he didn’t have to hear her heart in order to know that it was racing; yet, underneath all of her nervousness was this _faint_ trace of determination. Almost like she wanted to see, for herself, just how long he could last.

And if this was the game that she wanted to play, then he’d give her what she wanted. He’d give her anything. Hell, he'd find a way to hand her the sun, if she asked him for it. But if she thought, for a single second, that _he_ was going to be the one to look away, then she had another thing coming. Because Ben was a Solo, and competitiveness was so deeply-rooted in his DNA that he’d rather go blind first.

“Ben!” Hux turned around. “Dick sucked standing or sitting?”

“Sitting,” he answered without blinking. His hand balling the grease-stained napkin (from his pretzel) into a wad; his other still firmly resting on her calf. “Bad knees.”

“Bad knees?” Hux furrowed his brows. “You don’t have bad knees.”

“I do when they buckle,” he smirked, causing Rey to draw in a sharp breath.

“Fair point,” Hux nodded before falling back in his seat. “Alright, so, would you ladies rather spit or swallow?”

“Very original.” Rose scoffed. “Swallow. Because of the health benefits. Rey?”

Ben arched his brow, waiting.

“ _Swallow_ ,” she answered quietly—the redness spreading from her neck, to her cheeks, all the way to her forehead. “I like the taste.”

Ben cocked his head, grinning at her. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, putting the popsicle back in her mouth, hoping that the chill might cool her back down.

“Wait. There are health benefits?” Hux shifted in his seat, pinching his brows.

Rose snorted, ignoring him. “Rey, it’s your turn.”

She had thought of a question at the very beginning of the game. As soon as she knew what they were playing. Something light, and more demure, that would probably make Rose dry heave and call her a killjoy. But before Rey could ask them if they’d rather be the big spoon, or the little spoon, Ben had started skimming his fingers along the inside of her calf—drawing _painfully slow_ circles down towards her ankles. So, the only thing that she could manage to choke out was, “ _spoon.”_

“What was that?” He lifted his chin.

Without even looking, he unfastened the clasps on her sandals, one at a time, before slipping them off of her feet and letting them fall to the floor with a _clunk_.

“Would you—“ She gulped, feeling his thumbs start to work her arch, kneading it with just enough pressure to make her fall slack.

His fingers were immaculate. So strong and thick and skilled. And it was taking a great deal of willpower to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head. Or a moan from slipping out. Because _this_ was good. This was real good. He was good. He was _so good_.

“Sweetheart,” he smirked. “We’re waiting.”

Her mouth was slightly ajar, with the popsicle resting on her tongue. Not licking or sucking. Just letting it sit there, cold against her lips, melting from the heat of her breath. “Would you rather be—the big spoon—or the little spoon?”

Ben smiled at that, soft and genuine. “Big spoon,” he answered with a lilt in his voice. “Because I like holding you.”

She knew that he wasn’t trying to be charming. That he had pushed his bravado aside long enough to give her an honest answer. And it made her feel so light and airy and weightless, just knowing that she was going to get to spend the rest of her life letting him. “I like it when you hold me.”

“Yeah, well, I like being held too.” Hux announced with his mouth working from side to side, chewing hard. “So, give me the little spoon.”

“Wait. Really?” Rose looked over at him. “You want to be the little spoon?”

“I mean, not all the time. But I do every now and then.”

“Duly noted.” She nodded before shifting her focus back to the road. “Alright, Solo. You’re up.”

There were plenty of questions that Ben could ask. Because, like Rose, his mind was full of them. Each one a little saucier than the other. But he already knew what most of Rey’s responses would be. So, instead of picking one that he could answer himself, he went with the one that would most likely make her laugh.

“Would you rather only be able to come with a symphony orchestra playing in the background,” he said as he switched to her other foot, giving it the same attention. “Or be forced to listen to heavy metal riffs every time you have sex?”

And, right on cue, there it was. This high-pitched peal of laughter that she tried to suppress, yet only made it that much stronger. “Really?” Rey grinned. “ _That’s_ your question?”

“Hold on.” Rose frowned thoughtfully. “Just for clarification, do you mean, like, Beethoven or Hans Zimmer? Because I can fuck with Zimmer.”

“Hey! No names! No people!” Hux pointed in warning.

Rose shot him a look, then huffed. “Fine. Then, I’ll take the riffs.”

“Oh?” He blinked, seemingly surprised. "Pray tell."

“What? The sex would be aggressive.” She explained with a shrug. “And, I mean, it beats _always_ having to come to the sound of a tuba.”

“Reasonable.” He nodded before glancing over his shoulder. “Now—what’ll it be, Reina? You coming to the tuba? Or fucking to the riff?”

“It’s not _just_ a tuba, right?” Rey furrowed her brows, staring at Ben.

He shook his head no, his fingers massaging her heel. “It’s the _whole_ thing. Winds. Strings. Brass. Percussion. Vocals. Whatever you want.”

“Then, the orchestra.” She decided quickly. “Because it would be like coming to a choir of angels. And that sounds—that sounds kinda nice?”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk. But, other than that, Ben said nothing. He just bobbed his head, keeping his eyes trained on hers, and let the game move on.

“Would you boys rather get road head—“ Rose shifted in her seat, hiking her leg up while the other worked the pedals. “Or do anal?”

It was a good question. One that should’ve invoked at least _a little bit_ of deliberation. Maybe a list of pros and cons between the two. Yet, it took a fraction of a second for Ben and Hux to call out “r _oad head_ ” with the same vehement enthusiasm as an audience on _The Price is Right_.

“Wow.” Rose blinked.

Hux’s arm swung around to the backseat with his hand balled into a fist. Then, without looking away from Rey, Ben reached over and bumped their knuckles.

“Road head over anal?” Rose continued, grimacing “Do I even _want_ to hear your reasoning?”

“Head is head. I’ll take it however I can get it.” Hux shrugged as he tore open another Slim Jim, before shoving the whole thing into his mouth in one go.

“Yeah, but it’s dangerous.” Rose chided. “ _Extremely_ dangerous. You could wreck the car!”

Hux chewed faster, wanting to retort, but needing to get his bite down first. “You never said anything about wrecking. You said road head. And who’s to say we aren’t on some country backroad, where I can take my foot up off the gas? I mean, we don’t have to be on the damn German autobahn.”

“ _Still dangerous_ ,” Rose mumbled under her breath. Brows creased.

Rey cocked her head to the side, eyeing Ben. She was waiting for him to give his explanation, and for a minute, it seemed like he was about to challenge Rose’s No Pleading the Fifth rule, because something about the look on Rey’s face screamed “ _doghouse_.” And that was a place that he would very much _not_ like to be in, thank you.

So, he tried to stew over an answer.

One that was honest, yet not too desperate.

But after spending the last seven minutes watching her lips wrap around a fucking popsicle, his restraint was beginning to slip. Not to mention his jeans were uncomfortably tight. And if she didn’t stop looking at him through those lashes, then he was going to have to tell Tico to pull this clown car over.

“You’re pretty.” He diverted smoothly—smiling.

Rey pursed her lips, fighting a grin, and then hardened her gaze.

“You’re _really_ pretty?” He reworded.

“Armie, it’s your turn.” Rey said before spinning the popsicle through her hollowed mouth, purposely slurping as loud as she could.

The sound of it nearly made Ben whine. Fucking _whine._ And there’s no doubt that he would’ve—if his jaw wasn’t clenched so tight.

“Would you rather have sex in an empty elevator and _not_ be able to come—“ Hux held up his finger, trying to show emphasis on the _not_. “Or have sex in a church basement, during a revival, and have the best orgasm of your life?”

“Who’s preaching?” Rose tapped her thumb on the steering wheel, really considering it.

Hux choked out a laugh. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “What difference does it make?”

“It makes a pretty big fucking difference if my _dad_ is the pastor.” She shot back. “So, who’s preaching? My fifty-five year old father? Or someone random?”

“I don’t know. Someone random?”

“ _God help me_.” Rose said in a long sigh. “I guess the church. Because, I mean, if I don’t get to come, then what’s the point?”

“Why, you— _deviant._ ” Hux gasped in mocked offense. “Fornicating in a _church_?”

“Oh, can it, Opie! You’re no altar boy.” She cut her eyes around. “Besides, this is all hypothetical. It’s not like I’d _actually_ have sex in a church.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Jan.” Hux grinned as he worked on opening his fifth, maybe sixth, Slim Jim. “Reina, are you also a deviant? Or are you more of a beat-the-clock kind of gal?”

Rey couldn’t help but chuckle. “Galen Erso would roll over in his grave if I ever had sex in a church. So, I’ll take my chances in the elevator.”

“And not be able to come?!” Rose whipped her head around, then remembered that she was driving. Her eyes darting back to the road. “Did you miss that part of the question?”

“No,” Rey shook her head slowly, holding Ben’s gaze. “He said I wouldn’t be able to come _in the elevator_.” She arched her brow. “He never said anything about afterwards.”

If Ben grinned any bigger, then his jaw would’ve snapped. “Clever.”

“Why thank you.” She beamed, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “Now, would you two rather have a girl fake an orgasm, or—“

“NOPE.” Ben straightened up in his seat, not even giving her time to finish.

“OR—“ She laughed. “Would you rather not be able to come?”

“Not be able to come.” He answered so fast that his words jumbled together. “If you’re not coming, then I’m not coming.”

“Wait, not be able to come _ever_? Or just for this specific moment?” Hux’s mouth twisted into a grimace. His nose rumpled. “Actually, you know what? Nevermind. The alternative is worse. I’m not coming either.”

“I hate to break it to either of you, but women faking orgasms is pretty common.” Rose added casually. “I’ve even faked them before.”

Hux’s head snapped around. “ _With me?_ ” He pointed to his chest. “Did you with me?”

“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes. “No. I didn’t. But even if I did, it’s not like you’d know.”

“NOT LIKE I’D—“ Hux looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “I would know! I would definitely know!”

“NO, YOU WOULDN’T, OR YOU WOULDN’T HAVE ASKED!”

Ben was staring at Rey. The look on his face mirroring Hux’s panic. But before he could get a word out, she spoke first. “I never faked it.”

“You would tell me though, right? If you didn’t like it? Because, I mean, if you didn’t, then we could’ve done something else. Or I’d—I’d work harder. I’d make sure that it felt good for you. Whatever you wanted, I’d—”

“Ben,” she bit her lip, softly getting his attention. “I never _had_ to fake it.”

The rewording seemed to calm him, because his shoulders relaxed and he blew out this hard, puffy sigh. But she could tell that he was still a little uncertain about it, that he was questioning it. And it made her wish that she would’ve just asked them something else. Something that wouldn’t have caused Rose and Hux to get into a heated argument about how women shouldn’t have to lie about their orgasms. Or make Ben sift through all of his memories, just to see if there was ever a moment where _maybe_ she didn’t enjoy it as much as he thought she did.

Obviously he wasn’t going to find one. Because there wasn’t anything for him to find. But that didn’t stop him from sifting. And Rey didn’t want him to sift. She wanted him to believe her. For him to know that, despite all of his other shortcomings, _this_ had never been one of them.

Even making her _happy_ had never been one of them.

And yeah, sure, Ben wasn’t perfect. He was _far_ from perfect. He was moody, and impulsive, and _extremely_ stubborn. And there were plenty of times where she wanted to just _whop_ him upside the head with a cast-iron skillet, and knock a little bit of sense into him. But at the end of the day, even at his worst, he would always be the one that she wanted.

“What about that time when we were—“

“Not even then,” she stopped him. Her lips twitching in a ghost of a smile. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t fake it. “Did _you_?”

“Did I what?”

“Ever fake it.”

His chest shook through a laugh, quiet and nasally, like music to her ears. “How could I fake it when there’s visible evidence?”

“Actually,” Rose jumped in, pausing her quarrel with Hux long enough to answer him. “Men fake orgasms too. Not as often. But they do.”

“See?” Rey arched her brow, resisting the urge to smirk. “Maybe _you_ faked it.”

“What? I didn’t f—“ His brows pinched as he shifted in his seat, sitting up even straighter. He was getting serious, the timbre of his voice becoming deeper, _huskier_. “Sweetheart, I could come right now, just from watching you deep-throat that popsicle. So, believe me, I never faked it.”

“Oh yeah?” She could feel her skin start to heat up, but she ignored it. Not caring that she was blushing, or that her pulse was skipping, or that every breath suddenly felt like a fever dream. Because she had a point to make, and by God, she was going to make it. “Well, neither did I.” She told him as her foot began to skim up the inside of his thigh, causing him to sink right back into his seat.

Oh, she was good.

She was _real_ good.

He almost looked down at that.

But even though she was getting dangerously close to his groin, Ben _still_ refused to break. She was nearly done with that damn popsicle. And, sure, he might swallow his tongue before she sucked the last, little piece off the stick, but _by shit_ , he’d swallow it while looking her dead in the eyes.

“I think it’s your turn,” she said as she put the whole thing in her mouth, pulling it out empty. “— _sweetheart.”_

He gulped down whatever spit he had left. His stomach tightening.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she wouldn’t go all the way. Because she was blushing too hard and he could feel a slight tremble in her foot. And that was fine. It was more than fine. She didn’t have to go any further if she didn’t want to. Besides, a raging hard-on had never killed anyone. Or, at least, he didn’t think that it had? So, he could survive this. He could stave off coming in his pants like a fucking teenager. He just needed to get the ball— _No, not those._ _God, not those. Don’t even think about those._ —back in his court.

“My turn, huh?”

She smiled at him, dimples creasing. “Yeap.”

“Alright,” he gathered himself. “Would you rather—“ He placed his index and middle fingers on the top of her ankle. The same foot that was giving his dick the wrong idea. “Take _two_ fingers—“ He held her gaze, watching her pupils dilate, before drawing a line up the length of her leg. He was deliberately taking his time, letting her feel every inch of it, and then once he reached the hem of her Midi-skirt, he kept going, sliding his hand underneath the fabric, listening to the way her breath hitched. Which was _exactly_ what he was waiting for, just that little gasp, so that he could add a third. “Or _three_?” He raised his brow, stopping at the inside of her thigh, barely past her knee, before making his way back down to her ankle.

“You—” She whispered, trying to remember what her lungs were for.

Breathing.

That was it.

They were for breathing.

Ben cocked his head, _tutting_ at her. “That wasn’t one of your choices.”

She narrowed her eyes.

She didn’t mean, you, as in, _I want you instead of your fingers_. She meant _why would you do that?_ As in, _WHY WOULD YOU STOP_? And he knew it. Oh, he knew it. It was obvious that he knew it. Because somewhere between her hard swallows and whispery pants, his Solo bravado had clicked right back into place, and before she could even give an actual answer, he had the gall to wink. _The devil._

“I mean, two is plenty.” Rose shrugged.

“Three. I want three.”

“Three?” She spun around, nearly slamming on the brakes. “Reina Sofia, did you just say three?”

Ben’s smile was slow, but smug—like the Grinch right after he had stolen all of the children’s Christmas presents in Whoville. “Why three?” He asked, brows pinched, feigning curiosity.

“ _You know why_ ,” Rey mumbled loud enough for him to hear her.

He slouched in his seat, then went back to massaging her foot, his smile never leaving his face as he made a point to use three fingers. _Only_ three fingers. Which, honestly, was quite a task. But one that he was _clearly_ getting a kick out of.

“Yes, I do.”

—————

Han was standing at the kitchen counter, smoothing a silicon spatula over a casserole dish full of double chocolate brownie batter. The milk and eggs were still out, next to the refrigerator, probably souring. And there was flour all over the floor, and on his shoes, his pant legs, his hands and arms. But with the oven pre-heated, and Ani happily scooping the excess out of one of Leia’s Tupperware bowls with her fingers, he couldn’t find a single thing to complain about.

“Poppy, how come brownies have to be in the stove?” She asked him curiously. Her hand and mouth both covered in chocolate. “How come we can’t just eat them like this?”

She was perched up on the counter, legs dangling off the side. Which probably wasn’t a good idea, since Rey was pretty adamant about not letting her do that, just in case she fell. But, then again, would he _really_ be a grandparent if he didn’t let her get away with things at his house that she wouldn’t be able to get away with at home?

“Because they have to be baked. Otherwise, they’re not brownies.” He said without looking up from his task. “They’d just be batter.”

She was exactly like Ben when he was that age—always asking questions that didn’t amount to a hill of beans. But it did Han some good, having her around. Not just because he loved her, or because he wanted her to be there with him as often as possible. But because the house felt a lot less empty whenever there were tiny, little feet padding across the floor, or another mouth to feed that wasn’t just his own.

“I like them _not_ in the stove.” Ani smacked her lips together, completely unaware that she had a full beard.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Han chuckled. “I won’t have to wash the bowl by the time you’re done with it. Just put it right back in the cabinet.”

She clearly didn’t get the joke, but she smiled at him anyway. Then, after she swallowed that bite, she went for another—scraping her fingers around the inside of the container, gathering a glob of chocolate, before shoving it into her mouth.

Obviously, she had quite a bit of her mother in her too.

Han grinned as he carried the pan over to the oven, but before he could place it on the rack, he heard a car door slam—then another one.

He looked up at the clock on the wall.

An old, tacky one that Leia had picked up at a yard sale several years ago.

It was about time for them to be getting there. But he guessed he better make sure, just in case it wasn’t. So, he slid the pan into the oven, wiped his hands off on a towel, and then turned to Ani, telling her to stay put while he went to check.

Once she gave him a very Solo-like shrug, followed by an _Okay, Poppy_ , Han made his way through the kitchen and into the dining room, stopping at the window and parting the blinds. He could see Ben in the driveway, wearing white for a change, with Rey standing beside him. Or on him? Han squinted his eyes, watching Little Reina Andor back his six-foot-something son into the side of that Tico kid’s Honda. Her hands in his hair. His hands on her waist. Their tongues down each other’s throat.

“Aw Hell,” Han grumbled before closing the blinds and walking back towards the kitchen. “Alright, munchkin. Mommy’s home. Let’s get you cleaned up before she thinks I don’t own soap and water.”

He probably should’ve left out the part about Rey being there, and just went straight for the sink. Because Ani was off the counter, her feet hitting the floor with a _thump_ , and gone before Han could even turn on the faucet.

 _So, that’s why she’s not allowed to be on the counters_. Han shook his head, laughing quietly, and then put the Tupperware bowl in the sink next to the spatula. He hadn’t told her about Ben coming back this soon, because they wanted it to be a surprise. But, apparently, just the thought of seeing her mother was enough to have her running through the house singing “ _Mommy’s home. Mommy’s home_ ” to her own made-up melody.

Sugar.

It was the sugar.

Rey heard the doorknob turning before Ben did.

But, in _his_ defense, it was a little hard to hear anything with her palms digging into his ears. Or those little moans in the back of her throat, stealing what was left of his attention. So, whenever she started shoving him towards the back of the Range Rover, he had no idea what was happening.

“ _She’s coming!_ ” Rey whispered quickly. “ _Go!”_

“ _Go where_?!” He shot back, just as frantic.

“ _I don’t know! Just go!”_

“Mommy!” Ani squealed from the doorway right as Ben raced around the side of his SUV—his knee smacking into the corner of the bumper.

“ _FFF—“_ He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, fight back a _Fuck._

“Mommy, I missed you!”

Rey hurried to get away from him, trying not to laugh, and then stopped at the edge of the driveway, near the grass. “Hey, sweetie! I missed you too!” She called out breathlessly. “Come here and give me a hug!”

Her eyes cut over towards Ben, making sure that he was out of sight, and then turned back to Ani. She was holding onto the handrail, taking each step one at a time, and then once she was at the bottom one, she hopped onto the sidewalk and started running—all while Ben crept up the length of the Range Rover, headed in the opposite direction.

Clearly, he and Rey needed to work on their surprises.

But, somehow, _God willing_ , they were going pull this one off.

“You're so pretty, Mommy!” Ani announced, still keeping her promise, and then she wrapped her arms around Rey’s hips, hugging her. “I’m glad you’re back!”

“I’m glad I’m back too,” She smiled warmly, smoothing her hand across Ani’s forehead and cupping her cheek. “Have you had fun with Poppy?”

“Yeah! We watched movies and played Superhero. And I got to be _Captain Marble_ and Poppy was Star Lord because Star Lord has a spaceship. And we made brownies!"

“Oh, you did? Can I have one?”

“If you want one!” She nodded seriously. Her eyes wide.

Rey glanced up, watching Ben walk around the front of the Range Rover, his steps slow and silent, and then she looked back down at Ani. “Can Daddy have one too?” She asked with a smirk.

Ani cocked her head, furrowing her brows. “I don’t think we can put brownies in the mail, Mommy. But we can try!”

Ben crouched down a few feet away from them, grinning. “You know, they’re much better when they’re right out of the oven.”

His voice carried across the driveway, and he knew the moment it reached her, because she let in this sharp breath, her shoulders rising. But when she turned around, there were tears in her eyes—thick and round and welled in the corners. Tears that he hadn’t seen coming. 

“Daddy?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispered softly.

As soon as he said it, Ani shook through a whimper. Her face twisting into this pitiful, little frown; her brows pinching. But before his heart had time to break, she was running towards him. Her arms already reaching for whichever part of him she could get to first. And he couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him, or if she was just overwhelmed, but either way, he didn’t hesitate to scoop her up, standing to his full height.

She had her face buried into his neck.

Her whimpers quickly turning into wails. Loud, ear-splitting wails.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry.” He brought a hand up to the back of her head, carding his fingers through her curls, while the other held her against him. “ _Please_ , don’t cry."

She was breathing so hard that she started coughing. “ _I miss—missed—you._ “

“Ani, sweetheart, look at me.” He leaned back, afraid that she was going to make herself sick. Maybe a surprise was a bad idea? “I know. I know you did. And I missed you too. But I promised you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her voice came out in a hiccup, her shoulders jerking.

When she raised up, her face was red and wet and caked with chocolate, and her hair was falling out of whatever bun his father had tried to put it in. But Ben knew, just by the look in her eyes, that he was never going to do this to her again.

He was never leaving her again.

“Are you—Are you gonna stay now?”

He nodded quickly, his own tears starting to well. “Yeah, baby. I’m staying.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

She inhaled through her nose, calming herself, and then took a good look at him. Her little hands reaching up to his face, wiping the tears off his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

He choked out a breath, smiling at her. “I love you too.”

—————

It took a lot of strength, and a bit of stubbornness, but Ben managed to carry his bags, and one of Rey’s, into the house, without ever putting Ani down. Partly because he didn’t want to. Mostly because she wouldn’t let him.

She was like a little koala—her arms locked around his neck, her legs bent around his waist, grinning from ear to ear. And now that the shock had worn off, and she wasn’t overwhelmed anymore, she had started asking him questions. Firing off one right after the other before they’d even made it through the door.

Like—

Daddy, do you wanna watch _Tangled_?

Daddy, can you carry Mommy too?

Daddy, how come you’re so tall?

And Ben was soaking in every bit of it.

Yes, I want to watch _Tangled_.

Yes, I can carry Mommy too.

Because I eat a lot of cereal.

The only one that he couldn’t answer was why his neck was purple.

But Rey, like the angel she was, had quickly jumped in and told her that it was because Daddy had gotten hurt, but that he would be okay. Which made Ani, like the angel _she_ was, lean down and kiss his throat, right on the bruise, and then ask him if it was better now.

“Much better,” he chuckled before looking over at his father.

Han was leaning in the doorframe, next to the stairs. His arms crossed over his chest. Watching them with a slight smirk on his face.

“Dad, I was wondering if—“ Ben began, then paused. His heart pounding. “If maybe, just for a little while, I could—“

“You know you can, son.” Han answered gently, not giving him time to even ask if he could stay. “For as long as you need.”

—————

Midway through _Tangled,_ while Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder were singing with those ruffians at The Snuggly Duckling, the three of them had fallen asleep.

Ben was lying on his back, one leg stretched across the length of the couch, with the other hanging off the side. His socked foot planted on the floor. Head turned to the left. Rey and Ani were sprawled out on top of him. Ani on his chest. Rey curled into his side. Both of them pinning him into the cushions.

He had managed to stay awake the longest—even commented, although groggily, once the girls, _his girls_ , had started snoring, that it didn’t get much better than this. But it didn’t take long for Ben to join them. Because after about five minutes, maybe ten, his breathing had slowed and his hands had stopped rubbing their backs. And then Han knew, by the silence, that he’d be finishing the movie by himself.

He had considering waking them up and putting them all to bed. Because that old couch was getting raggedy, and he knew that if Ben stayed like that all night, then he wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning. Not to mention if Rey rolled, at all, then she was going to hit the floor. But after seeing them like this, all snuggled together, with limbs slung here and there, and hands clinging to shirts, Han simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

So, instead, he unfolded one of Leia’s crocheted afghans, walked over to the couch, and then draped it over them. His lips pressed together in a tight line. His eyes a little misty, even though he’d swear it was just allergies. 

“You did good, kid.” He smiled softly, brushing a lock of Ben’s hair off his forehead. “She'd be proud of you _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unapologetic Tangled References will be added to the tags.
> 
> Next Up: Ben and Rey are the best parents.


	19. this is me trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends. I'm sorry that I've (once again) taken awhile to update. The next few chapters might take me longer than it did in the beginning, because I have a lot going on. But I promise, I'm not going anywhere. I love this story as much as you do. ❤️
> 
> The song for this chapter is "this is me trying" by Taylor Swift, because it makes me think of Ben.

Rey was certain of two, very specific things.

The first was that they had put too much sugar in the lemonade.

Granted, she seemed to be the only person who thought that, considering how half of the pitcher was already gone. But the fact still remained—there was too much sugar in it. And the reason _why_ there was too much sugar was because, while she had been trying to add all of the ingredients into the pitcher, _someone_ had put their chin on her shoulder, their arms around her waist, and all-but begged her to throw in a second cup even though the recipe had only called for one.

Someone that was tall and pouty and hard to say no to.

Which brought her to the _second_ thing that she was certain of.

And it was that Ben Solo was a cinnamon roll.

A big, warm, gooey-centered cinnamon roll.

He had only been home for two weeks. Just two. And despite how relentlessly punishing those two weeks had been for him — from losing his career, to being served a summons to court, to having his real name circulate across every social media platform on the internet — it was obvious, to everyone, including to Ben, that he was finally where he belonged _._

But, even still, the transition from heavy metal frontman to stay-at-home dad hadn’t been easy.

The dad part, of course, had been effortless. Because Ben was _great_ at being a dad. He was patient and encouraging and eager to feed all of Ani’s wildest imaginations, from building a fort out of kitchen chairs and bedsheets so that they could, quote, _defend the living room from invaders_ , to assembling an entire, homemade obstacle course in Han’s backyard, simply because she was in, quote, _superhero training_.

And he had even gotten pretty good at asking Rey for help whenever he didn’t know how to do something, like: how to get marker stains off of Ani’s fingers, or how to give her a bath and make sure that she’s actually clean and not just dipped in soapy water, or how to make her to stop singing _Baby Shark._

The latter, of which, Rey and Ben had both conceded that there was no stopping.

Also, big thanks to Uncle Hugs for introducing her to it.

But their new normal, regardless of how wonderful it was, hadn’t come without tearing open old wounds. Wounds that had been trying to heal. Wounds that were intimate and private and _theirs_ to work through.

Because, now, they weren’t the only ones privy to them.

It all started, unsurprisingly, with a video of the entire backstage incident being uploaded onto the internet. Every word that Snoke had said. Every word that Ben had said. The punch. The arrest. Officer Child reading the name _Ben Solo_ off of his driver’s license loud enough for the cameras to catch it.

Then, after that video went viral, First Order Records had come forward and released a statement denying any involvement. Claiming that _Kylo Ren_ had a long history of reckless behavior and had become a liability to the Knights of Ren brand, and that First Order Records and Kylo Ren would no longer be affiliated with one another, due to multiple, repeated accounts of misconduct.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t something that Ben would argue.

He _had_ been reckless.

He _did_ have repeated misconducts.

And he understood that, regardless of who was right or wrong between him and Snoke, this was still a business. And the label’s top priority was to protect that business. To make sure that they didn’t lose any of their corporate investors over a scandal that they had the means, and the power, to quickly bury.

So, Ben understood _why_ they had tossed him under the proverbial bus.

But the problem wasn’t that the label had abandoned him, or that they had chosen to side with Snoke. Because Ben _knew_ that that was what they would do. Especially whenever Snoke had close ties to many of their investors, including the chairman of Empire Music Group, Sheev Palpatine, the de facto owner of the label and all of its sister companies.

The problem was _how_ that had chosen to bury it.

After the video went viral, and the general public, including a few notable celebrities, called for Snoke’s head on a literal spike, the label had to find a way to shift the narrative to something that would take the spotlight off of what Snoke had said, and onto something that people would be more riveted by. Something that would make Ben’s subsequent fall from fame become characterized by his personal life, rather than his professional one.

Which was why, midway through the first week, an _anonymous_ source closely connected to _Kylo Ren_ reached out to the press with insider information regarding the content of the video, as well as further context into what Snoke had meant, along with a carefully structured timeline Ben’s life and career. His birth name. Where he came from. Who his family was. The terms of his contract. Specific instances where he had failed to uphold the terms of that contract. His battle with addiction. His six-month stay at a treatment center in Utah.

They knew everything about him.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

And with all of it laid out in the drawing room, written and ready to print, the press immediately ran it as an op-ed exposé titled _The Rise of Kylo Ren._

The story of a man from a small-town in Upstate New York who had left his pregnant fiancée on the day of their wedding to move to California and pursue a career in music.

It was the last thing that Ben and Rey wanted the world to know.

Because that day, that moment, was _theirs_. And yes, it was devastating, and unnecessary, and had taken away years of happiness and crumbled it into a fine powder — but it was still _theirs._

Yet, now, all of a sudden, they were being forced to share it with thousands, arguably even millions, of complete strangers. People that didn’t even begin to know them. People that had only been given a biased version of the truth, without caring enough to hear their side of it. People that came with endless opinions and wide-reaching platforms, that could make a snowflake turn into an avalanche, while having no real concern for the two people that were going to get buried beneath it.

And once that avalanche became suffocating, Ben and Rey both struggled to find their way out of it — with him quickly succumbing to rage, and her falling into what felt like an impasse.

Which, in hindsight, made a lot of sense.

Because Rey wasn’t used to any of this, and she didn’t know how to ignore everything that the tabloids where saying about her. And Ben, despite his experience, didn’t know how to protect her from it. So, it left them both feeling defeated, and angry, and vulnerable. And with all of that stress and tension and anxiety making their emotions even more raw, the two of them ended up directing their frustration onto the last person, other than Ani, that either of them wanted to direct it at — _each other_.

The first time was more of a misunderstanding.

Rey had made the mistake of scrolling through Twitter. And she knew, _now,_ that she shouldn’t have. But at the time, her curiosity had gotten the best of her, and before she thought about what she was doing, or the harm that could come from it, she was already scrolling, and clicking, and reading. Not just articles. But captions. Comments. Entire threads filled with stolen photos of her.

Some of the posts were sweet and kind and supportive, even if they were comparing her and Ben to Persephone and Hades. Then, several others were simply rewording the same story over and over again, and then posting it as clickbait. But she came across a few that were just — _cruel_. Each criticizing her appearance, or the way she dressed. Saying that she could stand to lose a few pounds. Or that she looked too boring and vanilla for someone like Kylo Ren, so they understood why he left her.

And when she brought this up to Ben, showing him the comments on her phone, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the screen. His jaw working through a thought that didn’t come; his nostrils flaring through a breath that he didn’t fully take. And even though she knew this man like the back of her hand, and should’ve known, right then, that he was furious — in that moment, her self-esteem was so infinitesimally fragile that his silence felt like impassiveness. Like it didn’t matter to him.

So, when she stood up from the couch and stormed off, Ben had no idea what he had done wrong. No clue whatsoever. Thankfully, though, he realized his mistake not long after he made it, and he was already _pouncing_ before Rey could even make it out of the living room. His arms wrapping around her waist; his nose nuzzling into her hair. Reassuring her, with just enough groveling to sate her insecurities, that the only thing the internet had gotten right was that part about her being Persephone.

Their second fight, if it could even be called a fight, came a couple days later.

They had just gotten back from having dinner at Maz and Chewie’s. It was late. Ben had put Ani to bed and was already downstairs, about to go home to Han’s. Rey was standing a few feet away and trying to work up enough nerve to ask him to spend the night. Not that she needed _nerve_. She just needed _words._ But she was so anxious that she couldn’t find the right ones. And Ben was still trying to navigate what he thought she wanted from him, so he wasn’t about to offer to stay.

But their routine, by this point, had become ridiculous. It had started out with Rey dropping Ani off at Han’s on her way to work. And even though Ben was good with that — giving Rey his whole _whatever you want me to do, I’ll do_ shrug — it quickly turned into Ani asking if she and Daddy could stay at _their_ house sometimes, because waking up early was _hard,_ and all of her toys were _here._

Which was how Ben ended up coming over, every morning, at 6AM on the dot, with his hair all in disarray and his face twisted into this adorably groggy smile that Rey would spend the rest of the day wanting to get home to.

So, it didn’t make a lick of sense for Ben to keep going to Han’s if he was just going to turn around and come back in a few hours.

And _maybe_ Rey just wanted to wake up next to him, like she did at the hotel.

Or maybe at night, whenever the house had gotten quiet and still, it became harder to keep the loneliness from slipping in. Or maybe the spot on the bed next to her, that had never been cold before, was suddenly _freezing_ , and the only person that could warm it back up was four miles down the road.

But Ben never seemed to want to spend the night, and with her self-esteem still battered and frail, she assumed, again, that he just didn’t want to. Because if he did, then he would. Yet, every night, like clockwork, as soon as she yawned, or started to doze off, or made any indication that she was tired, he would kiss her on the forehead, his hand already digging for his keys, and tell her that he would see her in the morning.

And that was where their _so-called_ fight started.

Because the moment Ben reached for the door handle, all of her worries and frustrations and insecurities became too much, and her eyes began to water. Her lips were quivering. And she was rambling before he even had time to turn the knob. Wanting to know why he was always so quick to leave, or if the reason why he never stayed because he didn’t want to.

Then, _that_ turned into a heated argument about how they weren’t communicating like they promised they would, or how neither of them had bothered to ask what the other needed. They just fell into a familiar routine. One that worked, but apparently wasn’t _enough_. Because if it was, then she wouldn’t constantly be wanting _more_ from him.

Which was how Rey ended up pressed against her living room wall — with Ben incoherently mumbling _You know you can take whatever you want_ into her lips. Followed by a very breathless _I love you_ and _I’m sorry for being an idiot._

Because, of course, he had to beat her to an apology.

But that was how she knew, with absolute certainty, that this man, _her_ man, was a cinnamon roll.

A big, warm, gooey-centered cinnamon roll.

—————

Rey was sitting in a lounge chair on her back patio, tracing her thumb along the side of a too-sweet glass of lemonade, with her legs stretched out in front of her, and her feet crossed at the ankles. Letting the sun warm her freckles.

She had her sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of her nose, eyes staring over the top, with her hair twisted into two, slightly off-centered French braids that she didn’t ask for, yet somehow ended up with anyway, on account of Ani wanting Daddy to braid Mommy’s hair too, so that they could match.

And she had spent the last twenty minutes or so trying to read a book that Finn had given her. A murder mystery with a twist ending that he swore would blow her mind. Yet, after thumbing through a couple of chapters, just enough to decide that she was definitely going to like this one, Rey had gotten a little— _distracted._

Which, for the record, was completely understandable, given how there was a very shirtless, and very wet, Ben Solo running around her backyard.

She brushed her fingers across her lips, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, and tried to convince herself that it was the Sunday afternoon heat that was making her so thirsty. The one that had suddenly swooped through Chandy not even a full week into May.

Or it could be the fact that she was drinking straight sugar water, with a slight touch of lemon, like some kind of hummingbird, rather than something that might not leave her so _parched._

Then again, maybe denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt.

Rey drew in a slow breath, swallowing the dryness, and then brought the glass to her mouth, drinking several heavy gulps, one after the other, before coming back up for air. Her tongue sweeping across her Cupid’s bow to gather the excess; her chest swelling, deflating, then swelling again. Eyes never leaving him.

She felt like Ursula in _George of the Jungle,_ watching George chase after a band of horses in slow motion, while all of her girlfriends swooned from the other side of the fence.

Except, in this case, Rey was the only one swooning, and instead of a horse, it was their soon-to-be _five_ year old.

Ben had bought Ani one of those inflatable water sprinklers shaped like a giant rainbow—the ones that stood up on a cloud base, then spewed water out of the arch. And even though her birthday was still two weeks away, Ben had insisted that this wasn’t a birthday present.

It was just a present.

An “ _I Saw It On The Internet and I Ordered It”_ present.

And now that the weather had reached well into the upper 80s, the two of them were running around this not-a-birthday present, with Ben somehow managing to duck down enough to pass through the center, while Ani screamed at the top of her lungs every time the water splashed her in the face.

She hadn’t been real sure about it on the first lap, because the water was a bit crisp, and she was used to Uncle Lando’s heated pool. But once she had gotten accustomed to the temperature, she quickly turned into a little water bug. Bouncing across the grass with a few baby hairs plastered to her forehead. Shouting for Daddy to try and catch her, then squealing whenever he did.

Rey sunk deeper into the chair, stretching like a cat, then smiled as she watched Ani walk up to the spray, her hand sticking out, letting the water wash through her fingers. She was saying something to Ben, her neck craned up to look at him. And even though Rey couldn’t hear it, she had a feeling that they were talking about her. Because once Ani was finished, they both glanced over at the patio.

Rey took off her sunglasses, brows furrowed, squinting at them. But when Ben started walking towards her, she quickly scooted up in her seat. Eyes wide. “Oh, no.” She shook her head once he reached the bottom step. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” He cocked his head, playing dumb. His hand coming up to smooth his hair back as he climbed up to where she was. “I’m thirsty.”

“ _I’m sure you_ —” She swallowed hard, unable to stop her eyes from wandering across his shoulders, then down his chest, before stopping at the waistband of his swim trunks. They were hanging just a _little_ too low on his hips, and she would’ve sworn that she could feel her ovaries ball their hands into a fist and start beating on her fallopian tubes. But she quickly gathered her wits and forced her eyes up to his, watching him grin. “I’m sure you are.”

He took his time getting to the lounge chair, and then once he was at her feet, he worked his way up to her knees, her thighs, her waist, until he was hovering over her, nose-to-nose. She thought that he was going to kiss her. And despite the water dripping off of him in frigid beads, making her skin twitch each time they landed, Rey was _really, really_ hoping that he would. Especially now that he wasn’t asking for permission every time he wanted to.

But instead of going for her mouth, Ben had the audacity to lean down to the lemonade. That blasted glass of lemonade. His lips parting around the rim; his hand reaching up to tilt it towards him. He downed the rest of it without so much as a breath, and then sucked in a piece of ice, letting it roll over his tongue, before crunching it down to nothing—grinning the whole time.

“So good,” he crooned.

“DADDY, DID SHE SAY YES?” Ani called out from the sprinkler.

Ben cocked his head around, looking over his shoulder. “FINESSE, BABY. I HAVE TO FINESSE HER FIRST."

“Finesse me, huh?” Rey chuckled as she cupped his chin, turning his face back to her. “And what exactly are you two doing that would require _finesse_?”

“Well, you see, the thing is— Ani and I—We were trying to find a pot of gold.” He reached down and plucked the book from her lap, then laid it down on the ground, before taking the glass of lemonade and sitting it beside it, along with her sunglasses. “Because, obviously, every rainbow has one at the end of it.”

Rey tightened her mouth, fighting a grin. “Mhm.”

“But we’ve run into a bit of a problem.” He told her, feigning seriousness as his hand slid up the length of her thigh, over the fabric of her shorts, then stopped at the curve of her waist. “And we think that Mommy might be able to help us.”

“Hmm,” she licked her lips. Her fingers skimming his jaw. “And what’s the problem?”

Rey was fairly positive that _this_ was all a part of his finesse. But when Ben’s lips brushed against hers, and his tongue, still cold from the ice, worked it’s way into her mouth, she didn’t have it in her to care. Because if this was what it felt like to be finessed, then she was fine with it. 

“You taste—so sweet.” He groaned as his hand gripped her ribs with just enough pressure to tell her that his restraint was crumbling. “Two cups was _definitely_ a good idea.”

She slowly nudged her chin, seeking control now that his was slipping. Their lips pulling apart with a wet _pop_. “I thought you had a problem.” She said with a smirk.

“Oh, I do.” He whispered as his other hand, the one _not_ currently digging into her ribcage, slid between her leg and the chair cushion. And she had a feeling that it was a very _big_ problem, considering the look in his eyes. But before she had time to think of a cheeky comment, Ben was hoisting her up off of the lounge chair and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “We need a leprechaun.”

“BEN SOLO, DON’T YOU DARE!”

She tried to squirm free, but he had her thighs in a vise. His fingers splayed just beneath the hem of her shorts; his head cocked to the side to see where he was going. Her hands were gripping onto whatever she could grab, as if she thought that this big brute might accidentally drop her, but as they bounced down the patio steps, she knew that there was no use in trying to get away from him.

Ben was strong.

And when he set his mind to something, he was just as ornery.

But even though Rey was clearly outnumbered and outmatched, with her body partially upside down and her line of sight staring directly at two cute, little dimples in his lower back, the joke was still on him.

Because the water was cold — _real cold._

And Mommy wasn’t wearing a bra.

—————

It took him several minutes. Much longer than she expected. But she knew the moment that Ben realized it, because all 6’3 of him skid to an sliding halt. His head and hair whipping around like a carnival swing; his jaw working in what looked like a gulp, but could’ve been a breath.

He had been chasing Ani around and around the rainbow, her little feet squishing on wet grass, his spine having to bend down to an immeasurable angle just so that he could squeeze through the arch. But the second his eyes cut over, and he saw Rey standing there, soaking wet, hands on her hips, nipples hard enough to pierce through her shirt _,_ the poor man was skidding.

Normally, something like this would’ve made her feel self-conscious.

Because her breasts weren’t as perky as they used to be, and her nipples weren’t symmetrical, and she was convinced that one boob was larger than the other. But Ben was looking at her like a starved man at a roadside market. All frozen and dumbstruck, with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. So, it was impossible not to feel desirable. At least enough to make this mountain of a man stop dead in his tracks.

“Daddy, can we do the airplane again?” Ani bounced over to where they were standing. Her hand dragging across her forehead to wipe the hair out of her eyes.

“The airplane?” Rey arched her brow.

Ben seemingly found his bearings, nodding. “The airplane.”

He hoisted Ani off the ground like she weighed nothing, tossing her up and catching her just as easily. Then, he maneuvered her around until she was suspended in front of him. Her spine pencil straight; her arms spread out to make the wings.

“Are we clear for take off?” He shot Rey a grin as Ani squalled an excited, “ _Aye aye, Captain_.”

“Looks like rain up ahead.” Ben chuckled as he walked towards the sprinkler, raising her high above his head, then back down again, attempting to act out turbulence. “You sure this storm is safe to fly through?”

“I’m sure, Daddy.” She bobbed her head. “Mommy, are you watching?”

Rey crossed her arms over her chest, grinning at them. “Yeah, baby. I’m watching.”

Ben dipped her down with a _whoosh,_ drenching her in the spray, before circling back around and doing it again. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep this up, because despite his stamina, she was wearing him out. But if hauling her through a five foot inflated rainbow was what made his little girl happy, then he wasn’t going to stop until she was ready to quit.

Rey was half-tempted to go find her phone and snap a picture, because seeing them like this was worth framing. But before she could even pivot towards the patio, Ani was telling Daddy that it was Mommy’s turn.

“Oh, no. Uh uh.” Rey shook her head. “Mommy’s too heavy.”

“You’re not too heavy, Mommy.” Ani crinkled her brows, frowning as Ben sat her back down on the ground. “Daddy carried you before.”

“Yeah, Mommy.” Ben started to walk, more like _stalk_ , towards Rey. “Daddy carried you before. _”_

 _“_ Ben…” She pointed at him in warning. “I’m just now starting to dry off.”

“Yeah, but you see—” He cocked his head, his brow raised. “I like you nice and wet.”

Rey pursed her lips to keep from smiling. Her cheeks flaming with a sudden rush of heat. “I need to go start dinner.” She deflected.

“It’s my turn to cook.” He countered with a shrug.

“I swear, if you—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence, because he was already scooping her up in a bridal carry. “Ben Solo, if you—”

“If I what?” He tossed her just to show her that he could. His dimples digging into his cheeks. “Light as a feather, stiff as a board.”

Rey rolled her eyes, regretting that night she talked him into watching _The Craft,_ and then wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.” He shot back as he inched them closer to the sprinkler.

—————

She had never thought that _Ben Solo in the kitchen_ would be such a turn on. Because, quite frankly, he had never known his way around one. And it was obvious, by the sight of her counters, that he still didn’t. But for some reason, watching him stand over a stove, in a pair of black sweatpants, with his back muscles threatening to tear through his t-shirt, was just — _doing it for her._

Then again, maybe it was the way that his hands made her cast-iron skillet look like a teacup saucer.

“Daddy, have you made fajitas before?” Ani stood at his hip, nearly breaking her neck to look up at him.

“No. But how hard can it be?” He said as he eyed the skillet.

Ani glanced around, taking in all of their scattered ingredients: a package of chicken breast, onions, tomatoes, peppers, a container of sour cream, and a cluster of seasonings that Ben had pulled out of the cabinet.

“Looks pretty hard to me.” She frowned. “Where’s the potatoes?”

Rey cupped her hand over her mouth, hiding her grin.

“Well, there’s no — Fajitas don’t have—” He peered down at her. His lips working through the words. “Do you want potatoes again?”

Rey wasn’t sure if it was the look on his face, or the way he said _again_ , that made her snort. But she quickly played it off as a cough.

“Can you make them as good as Mommy does?” Ani blinked.

“Well, I mean—” He huffed out an cocksure laugh, cutting his eyes over at Rey, who simply raised her brow, daring him to finish that sentence. _Shit._ He cleared his throat, looking back at Ani. His nose scrunching as he shook his head. “Probably not.”

That was her cue.

Rey stood up from the bar stool and made her way around the kitchen island until she was at a dark, wooden veggie bin where she kept the potatoes. She opened the lid, gathering a couple of the largest ones, and then walked back to the island with a smile on her face.

“I need the potato peeler,” she glanced back, smirking up at him as a stark sense of deja vu seemed to wash over her. A reminder that they had been here before; yet, had come a long way since then. “First drawer by the sink."

Ben apparently felt it too, if his grin was anything to go by. But he didn’t think twice before strolling over to the cabinets, pulling out the drawer and rummaging through the utensils until he found what she needed. Then, he carried it over to her. His body sliding in behind hers. Chest and stomach pressed against her back. His arms snaking around her waist as he leaned down, planting a quick kiss on her shoulder, then another one on the side over her head right above her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered, still grinning.

She was never going to get tired of hearing him say that. “I love you too.” She leaned back, tilting her head just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw, then she swiped the peeler from his hand. “Now, go cut up the chicken. It needs time to marinate.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He backed away, looking excitedly boyish.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm — with Ben picking Ani up and putting her on his shoulders so that she could see what he was doing, while Rey cut up the potatoes and got them ready to boil. And despite it being completely mundane and ordinary, just two people sidestepping each other around a kitchen, there was also something incredibly intimate about cooking together, sharing the responsibility, connecting through tastes and smells and the occasional touch. She could feel his need to please her, and to know that she was happy. Not just with the way he looked at her, but by something as simple as him offering her a bite. Wanting her to test what they were making, to see if they needed to add something else. Or if she thought that it was done. Then, waiting and watching as she chewed, as if whatever words came out of her mouth would determine what he would do next.

And it was even better that their daughter was able to witness it. 

For her to know that love, and intimacy, came in so many different forms.

“Does it always pop like that, Daddy?” Ani leaned over the top of his head. Her hands clamped onto the sides of his face.

He had one arm up, holding her knee, while the other stirred the chicken and veggies to keep them from sticking to the skillet. The heat was _probably_ turned up too high, but Rey liked her food charred, almost black. So, he figured cranking up the dial on the stove would do the trick.

“Only when it’s really, really hot.” He told her softly. “That means it’s cooking.”

_Or burning._

“Daddy—”

Ben turned his eyes up, feeling her chin rest on the top of his head.

He knew that tone.

She was thinking about something.

Her little mind bouncing from question to question.

Always curious.

“What-y?”

“Do you love Mommy as much as Uncle Finn loves Uncle Poe?”

Ben shifted slightly, putting the spatula down. He could see Rey in the laundry room next to the kitchen. Her entire upper half was practically inside of the washer, trying to gather a few of the remaining clothes stuck at the bottom, and then toss them into the dryer. She was already wearing her pajamas. A pair of flannel shorts rolled up at the waist — and _yes_ , he was staring at her ass.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Ben asked as he reached up to hold Ani’s other knee.

“Well—” She began thoughtfully. He couldn’t see her, but he had a feeling her brows were knitted. “You kiss Mommy a whole lot. And you hug her. And you tell her that she’s pretty.”

“Uh huh. I do.”

“Well, Uncle Finn does all of that with Uncle Poe too.” She continued. “He says it’s ‘cause he loves him and he wants him to know that he loves him. That’s why he kisses him, and hugs him, and tells him he looks nice whenever he wears a suit. But if you do all of that with Mommy, then does that mean you love her just as much?”

“Yeah, baby, that means I love her just as much.”

“Even when she’s mad at you?”

Ben smirked, “Especially when she’s mad at me.”

“Uncle Finn doesn’t get mad at Uncle Poe. He just gets irritated.”

“Irritated?” Ben couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, Uncle Poe snores really loud and it gets on Uncle Finn’s nerves.” She peered around to look him dead in the eyes. “Do _you_ snore?”

“No,” Ben shook his head. “But Mommy does.”

About that time, Rey came back into the kitchen. Her brows pinched. “Mommy does _not_.”

“Oh-ho-HO. Yes, you do.” Ben quickly countered. “Like a lumberjack sawing down a forest.”

Rey’s mouth dropped open in obvious offense. “Yeah, well, you drool. So…”

“That was _one_ time!” He eased over to her until they were toe-to-toe, his voice lowering. “And I’m pretty sure you liked it.”

She blew out a sharp breath, reaching up, almost instinctively, and resting her hand on his hip. “And you like it when I snore.”

He leaned down, smirking like the devil. “I never said I didn’t.”

Rey narrowed her eyes, trying to seem cross with him, yet couldn’t quite keep from grinning. Not when he was quick to close the remaining distance. His lips brushing against hers, so slow and so gentle that she ended up chasing his mouth once he pulled away.

“ _Now, tell her she’s pretty_.” Ani whispered in his ear.

Ben and Rey both snorted out a laugh.

Because this felt a little bit like a set-up.

But he wasn’t about to disobey a direct order.

Especially not from a soon-to-be five year old.

“You—” Ben kissed Rey again, just as chaste. “are pretty.” Then, again. “And smart.” Again. “And so talented.” Again. “And you make the best lemonade.” Again. “And did I mention that you’re pretty?”

Rey laughed, cupping his cheek. "Yes, you did."

—————

Rey didn’t know if it was the bristles on the hairbrush or Ben’s thumb massaging the back of her neck that was lulling her to sleep. But regardless, she could _definitely_ get used to this.

She was between his legs on the L-shaped part of her couch, with her hands on his knees and her eyes _trying_ to pay attention to whatever episode _Game of Thrones_ they were on _._ Season Three, Episode 9? Or was it 10? Whichever episode had the Red Wedding — they had just started that one. But it was hard to focus on anything the Starks were saying whenever Ben was kneading the knots out of her neck and brushing slow strokes over her scalp.

How he managed to do both at the same time, she didn’t know. And quite frankly, she didn’t care. Just as long as he didn’t stop. Because this? This was Heaven. Being petted, and pampered, and soothed — by a man that was completely committed to doing all three.

“A little lower,” she hummed. Her lashes fluttering.

“Shoulder blades?”

“Mhm.”

He put the hairbrush down on the cushion next to the TV remote, and then went back to work. Using both hands with hard presses until her upper body was teetering and swaying each time he pushed into the muscle.

“That feels — _so good_.”

He was smiling, and even though she couldn’t see it, she could sense it. The way his breath came out in a sharp burst, sounding a bit like a muffled laugh. She loved it when he did that. Laughed. But right now, in this state of mind, she was willing to love anything.

“Are you even watching the show?” He teased.

“I’m trying.”

“Do you want me stop?”

“ _Don’tyoudare_ ,” she mumbled quickly, squeezing his left knee.

“So bossy,” he slid his knuckle down the length of her spine, causing her breath to hitch, before massaging both thumbs into her back. “We need to talk about Ani’s birthday party.”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “To the left. Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. _Right there._ ”

“I was thinking maybe the park.” He bit his lip, _hard,_ trying to will his dick to stay flaccid. This wasn’t about him, or _it_. This was about her. “Or I could ask Uncle Chewie if we could do it at his house. We’ll need space for the whole lantern thing.”

“I like that idea.” She breathed softly.

“The park? Or Chewie’s?”

“Either.”

His eyes floated up to the TV, juggling his attention between the show, the party, and _her._ Which was a difficult feat for him, considering multitasking had never been one of his strong suits, but God love him, he was trying.

“I ordered our costumes too.” He said as he moved up to her shoulders.

“Did you get me a medium? Wait, rewind that. What did he say?”

Ben reached over, picking up the remote. “Yes, I got you a medium.”

They paused for a moment, both staring at the television and catching up on the part that they had missed. Then, once the scene changed, Ben went back to her shoulders. Rubbing and pressing and causing her head to roll.

This would be so much better if she was lying down, but she knew that if she did, then she would be asleep within seconds. And apparently, according to Hux, this episode was the best of the season, arguably the entire series. So, falling asleep wasn’t an option.

Especially whenever they had a small window of time to binge it in.

Being parents and all that.

“Dad’s gonna be the horse.”

“Maximus?” Rey glanced back at him, grinning from ear to ear. “God, that’ll be funny. I told Fi— _Oh, right there. Harder. Yes, just like that. —_ I told Finn about it. He’s going to be Flynn Ryder. And I think Poe wants to be one of the ruffians.”

“One of those guys that sings at the bar?”

Rey huffed out an airy laugh, “It’s a tavern. But yes.”

“The one with the hook hand?” Ben pinched his brows.

He had only seen _Tangled_ fifty-thousand times by now.

“No, the one that looks like a Viking. Loves unicorns. You know — _that_ one.”

“Ah,” he tilted his head back, nodding. “She’s going to be so surprised.”

Rey smiled up at him, biting her lip. “You did good. Putting it all together. Coming up with the theme. She’ll love it.”

Ben wrapped his arms around her chest, pulling her into him as her hands reached up to hold his forearm. “ _We_ did good.” He smiled, kissing her temple, then her cheek. “There’s no _me_ without _you_.”

“You sure?” She laid her head over, snuggling into him.

He reached up, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Very.”

“There’s no me without you either.”

“Well,” he breathed softly — bending down to press his forehead against hers. “I don’t know about all _that.”_

 _“_ I do.” She told him without skipping a beat. “I love you. So much. And we’re going to get it right this time. Promise me that we’ll get it right.”

“Baby, I swear on my life, we’re going to be fine.” He held her tighter, watching her eyes suddenly start to well. “You wanna know how I know that?”

She nodded.

“Because there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do to keep you.” He brushed his thumb along the corner of her eye, catching a tear before it could fall. “Because I love every single part of you. Even the parts that you don’t like.” He smiled. “And because if I’m going to grow old _at all_ , then it’s going to be with you.”

"You're so cheesy," she sniffed despite her laugh.

"You love me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: The Tangled themed birthday party that NO ONE asked for, but is getting anyway.


	20. I See The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tangled-themed birthday party that no one asked for, but is getting anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I feel like all I do is apologize for taking so long to update. But I promise, I won't be abandoning this story. I've actually been writing this chapter throughout a three-month long mental breakdown, so instead of going back and making it shorter (It's 12,000 words) I decided to keep all of it, because I wrote this while going through one of the worst experiences of my life, so I simply didn't want to change any of it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, even if you've never seen Tangled!
> 
> Also, OVER A THOUSAND KUDOS? I started this story for fun. Thinking that mayyybe a handful of people might read it. But this? I never would’ve dreamed of this. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.
> 
> The song for this chapter is obviously from the movie. 
> 
> "I See the Light" by Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi.

Her legs swung over the side of the bed — body stretching and straining and sliding until both feet were on the floor. Toes first, then soles, then heels. She was only wearing one sock. The other was wadded up somewhere beneath her Paw Patrol comforter. And her hair was in a frizzy, static-y braid that had come loose sometime during the night. But despite her runny nose, her wrinkled pajamas, or the audible growl deep in her tummy, Ani was excited.

 _Really_ excited.

She scurried over to her bedroom window, hands on the sill, neck stretched out like a baby turtle, trying to see if the sun had come up yet. Mommy and Daddy never woke up before the sun. Not on Saturdays. That was the day when grown-ups slept a little longer. And since the sky was still dark, and the house was still quiet, she figured that they were probably still sleeping.

She made her way to the door, slipped out into the hallway, and then climbed down the stairs. Taking the steps one at a time. Holding onto the railing. Minding her footing. Looking down instead of up, just like Mommy always told her to. Then, once she reached the bottom, she rounded the corner and hurried towards their bedroom. Feet bouncing along the hardwood. Mouth curled into a grin. Eyes all squinty and sparkly and shining.

When she opened the door, peeping inside, there was a lump in the center of the bed, rounded like a molehill and barely rising before sinking right back down again. She crept over to it, careful not to step on any of Mommy and Daddy’s shoes, and then climbed up onto a bench at the foot of the bed, then over the wood framing and onto the mattress. Her hands and knees digging into a heaped up duvet that one, or both parents, had kicked off sometime in the night. Her neck stretching, again, to see if they were awake yet.

They weren’t.

Daddy was holding Mommy really tight, with his arm snaked around her belly and his chin on top of her head. And Mommy was snoring, just like he said she did, with her hand on his and her mouth hanging wide open.

Neither of them knew that she was there, or that she was staring at them, but that was about to change in three…two…

“ _Daddy…_ ” She whispered.

Ben jolted awake, head flying up, eyes popping open, neck twisting to the left as he tried to decide between fight or flight, with fight easily being his first choice.

But once he realized that it was just the fruit of his loins and not an armed robber, he settled back down.

“ _Hey, baby. Are you okay?”_

He tried to roll onto his back, but the minute he started to move, Rey turned over. She didn’t even wake up. She just shifted around until she was facing him — an arm slung across his chest, her body wiggling against his ribs until she found the right spot. Then once she was settled, she let out a quiet, little hum. Resting her head on his shoulder.

He smiled softly, kissing her forehead, and then he lifted his arm up, the one _not_ currently pinned to the mattress, so that Ani could crawl on top of him. She was already halfway there, with a knee in his hip and another in his lower stomach, but once she reached his face, she braced her hands on his sternum, grinning down at him.

“Guess what day it is!”

“ _Mmm_ ,” Ben groaned playfully before rolling back onto his side, lugging Ani down with him until she was trapped between him and Rey. Then, he raised his head, hair in his eyes, looking over top of them, and checked the clock on the bedside table.

It was barely seven o’clock. Which meant that Mommy and Daddy had gotten _maybe_ three hours of sleep. Possibly less than that, given how neither of them could quit talking long enough to shut their eyes.

In their defense though, they had finally made it to season six of _Game of Thrones._ And yes, they should’ve stopped after two or three episodes. Because they knew that today was going to be long, and busy, and would drain every ounce of their combined energies. But they had been seduced by that age-old promise of “ _We’ll watch one more, then we’ll go to bed_ ” — where “one more” turned into one more, then one more, then one more, until all of a sudden it was three o’clock in the morning and they were both whisper-screaming at the TV.

“ _Ben, did she just…_ ”

“ _That fucking, wine-sipping cunt…_ ”

Ben was a little more animated in his commentary than Rey was, but neither of them had been able to fall asleep after that. Not when Cersei Lannister had blown up the Great Sept of Baelor, nearly destroying half of King’s Landing. So, instead of going to bed, they took their woes to the kitchen — with Rey sitting on the granite countertop, eating Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, while Ben braced his hands on either side of her thighs, letting her feed him every other bite.

It wasn’t until Rey had yawned that they finally went to bed. And that was only because Ben had thrown her over his shoulder, leaving the ice cream opened on the counter, and then carried her through the house, towards the bedroom. Whispering “ _The night is dark and full of terrors”_ as he turned off the hallway light.

Now though, he could see where staying up that late might not have been their best idea. Especially when his head felt an iron anvil and his eyes didn’t want to open. Not to mention the cranky, albeit pleading, groan that rumbled in the back of Rey’s throat, letting him know that she could feel it too. That desperate need to hit the snooze button on their little, curly-headed blessing.

“Daddy, are you gonna guess?” Ani wriggled between them, attempting to sit up despite both Rey and Ben boxing her in with their arms.

“Mommy wants to guess,” Ben hummed. His face burrowing into the pillow, ignoring the one-eyed glare that Rey was giving him. And he thought that would work. That subtle redirection. But then he felt Rey’s fingers pinch his side, right below his ribs, causing his hips to jerk. “ _OW!_ — Saturday. It’s Saturday.”

“DADDY!”

“Alright! Alright!” He breathed out a sleepy laugh, dipping his head down and blowing a raspberry on the underside of her chin, making her squeal. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Mommy?” She whipped around, wanting all of the attention that she could get. “Do you wanna tell me something too?”

Rey hummed out a soft _yes_ , then leaned down, smiling, and kissed her on the temple. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

“Does this mean I can open a present now?” Ani blinked up at them, eyes wide, brows raised. “You and Daddy said I could when I woke up.”

“Did we say that?” Rey peered over her, squinting at Ben.

He twisted his mouth around, looking unsure. “I don’t know. Did we?”

“YES!” Ani reached up, holding both of their chins and forcing them to look at her. “You said — You said that I could open one of my presents before we go to Uncle Chewie’s and play with the chickens. I heard you.”

“Then, I _guess_ you can,” Ben turned his head and kissed her little fingers. “If Mommy says it’s okay.”

“Mommy?” Ani stared hopefully. Her lashes fluttering as she blinked.

“Breakfast first.” Rey ordered. “Then, you can open one. But only _one_.”

“Only one.” Ani nodded, then wrapped her arms around Ben’s neck. “Let’s go make _breffast_ , Daddy.”

He let out a soft groan, more like a whine, and then turned over on his back, hauling her with him until she was settled on his chest. “What’s on the menu?”

“Appa Jacks.” She told him as he stood up from the bed. Her hands hanging onto him like a baby possum.

“I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, huh?” Ben said with a snort, laughing at his own pun. But when Ani’s head tilted, he knew that she didn’t get it. So, he continued. “That means you’re like me.” He explained as he carried her out of the bedroom and into the hallway. “I’m the tree. You’re the apple.”

“How come I’m the apple?”

“Because I made you.” His mouth opened into a lionlike yawn as he walked into the kitchen, flipping on the light switch.

Rey was following along behind them, pulling her hair up into a messy bun, a smirk on her face, brow arched. “ _You_ made her? I was the one that carried her around for nine months.” She defended playfully, pointing at her chest.

“Yeah, well… You might’ve baked the cake, sweetheart.” Ben glanced over his shoulder, winking at her. “But I made the batter.”

—————

Ani’s birthday present was a ploy.

Just a way for Ben and Rey to get her into a costume without raising any suspicions.

And just as they had expected, after she tore through the wrapping paper and pulled out a shiny, purple gown with a pink, cross-laced bodice, Ani had been none the wiser. She just thought that Mommy and Daddy had bought her a new Rapunzel costume because they wanted to play dress-up. Which, according to her, was exactly what she had in mind for today. To play dress-up, and watch _Tangled_ , and maybe eat a whole sack full of chicken nuggets if Daddy would take her to McDonalds.

He did, of course.

Because Ben was a sucker.

So, as they drove to Chewie and Maz’s farm, dressed to the nines in full Medieval regalia — with Ben wearing a puffed-sleeve tunic, a vest overcoat, and a pair of brown, leather boots tucked into his trousers, and Rey donning a long, mid-century gown the color of a bloomed violet — they had made a quick pitstop at the nearest drive-thru and ordered Ani a Happy Meal.

Or, at least, they _tried_ to order her a Happy Meal.

Ben was taking his role as King Frederic very seriously, and Rey, despite her ribs practically splitting from laughter, had to turn and face the passenger side door once they pulled up to the window to get the food — all because Ben had thought that it would be hilarious to order it in Old English.

“ _Dost thou haveth a slab of poultry_?”

“Oh my God, Ben.”

“ _Mine offspring demandeth sustenance._ ”

“I swear, if you don’t quit—”

He was such a goofball, with his crooked grin and his loud, nasally laugh, but he was _her_ goofball, and even though she wished that he would act like he had some sense whenever they were out in public — she had every intention of keeping the dork.

Partly because she loved him.

Mostly because he had no problem letting her have the spotlight whenever _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ came on the radio.

A Grammy award-winning artist settling for the ole “ _Turn around, bright eyes_ ” background vocals, while an untrained, but stronger than she knows, flower girl sang the lyrics into a tightly-closed fist.

“ _Turn around, bright eyes_.” He crooned. Chin lifted, hands on the wheel.

She was leaning towards him, elbow on the center console, fist at her mouth, expression turning into overly-dramatized sorrow.

She was really selling it.

“ _Every now and then I fall apart_.”

“ _Turn around, bright eyes._ ”

“ _Every now and then I fall apart,”_ She ran her hand down his bicep to his elbow, then held onto his forearm while he grinned from ear to ear. Eyes staying on the road because safety first. “ _And I need you now tonight. And I need you more than ever. And if you only hold me tight. We’ll be holding on forever. And we’ll only be making it right. Cause we’ll never be wrong. Together, we can take it to the end of the line. Love is like a shadow on me all of the time._ ”

Ben’s voice lifted about ten octaves higher, almost squeaking. “ _All of the time.”_

 _“I don’t know what to do. I’m always in the dark.”_ Rey belted out, trying to sound as rugged and as gravelly as possible. “ _We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks._ ”

Ben tapped his hand on the top of steering wheel along with the drumbeat, then once the song reached a climax, they were both screaming towards the windshield. “ _I REALLY NEED YOU TONIGHT. Forever’s gonna start tonight. Forever’s gonna start —”_

“Can we listen to Aretha now?” Ani chimed in from her booster seat.

Once they pulled onto Chewie’s gravel drive, and _Respect_ was winding down, Rey and Ben waited for their little nugget to notice something different about the farm. Not that it would be too hard. As most parents do, they had went a little overboard with the decorations. Turning the entire front yard and part of a hayfield into the Festival of Lights — with a face-painting station near the willow tree, a row of picnic tables in the shade covered in purple and gold tablecloths, as well as dozens of purple flag banners, with a yellow sun symbol in the center of each triangle, stretching from tree to tree in no certain direction.

And even though the aesthetic may not have been _exactly_ like it was in the movie, it was pretty darn close. From the whiskey barrels full of Kool-Aid, to the black, cast-iron skillets being used as serving platters on the snack table, to the instrumental folk music playing softly from the front porch.

They had even rented out a massive, inflatable bounce house shaped like a castle.

But the best part, out of all of it, was that their friends and family were there to celebrate with them.

And per Ben and Rey’s request, they had all came in costume.

The first person Rey spotted as the car pulled to a stop was Finn.

He was dressed in a white tunic under a blue vest with a pair of brown pants, brown boots, and a brown, crossbody satchel slung over him. His arm resting on Poe’s shoulder, leaning against his husband with the same cocksure confidence that would be expected from someone cosplaying as Flynn Ryder.

Poe, who was harboring a hard scowl that may or may not have been deliberate, was wearing a dark, faux-fur vest that could moonlight as a dress, a set of wrist cuffs, and leather boots that came up to his knees. His head was covered with a horned, Viking helmet that Finn kept having to dodge.

Hux was whichever red-headed Stabbington Brother wore an eyepatch, and Rose had, hilariously, wanted to be Mother Gothel. Her black hair curled and teased and sprayed until it was so stiff that not even the wind could move it. Her dress a shiny maroon.

Chewie, who had never even watched _Tangled,_ wore his usual garb, but had been conned into sporting a hook for a hand.

Maz, in a bright, neon green pantsuit, was Rapunzel’s trusty chameleon sidekick, Pascal.

And Han, who had wanted to be his favorite character, but had lacked the motivation and creativity to do any more than the bare minimum, was wearing a white t-shirt with a tag over the pocket that read, _“MAXIMUS.”_

Ben pressed his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head as he killed the engine and climbed out of the Range Rover. He made his way around the back, putting on his gold, jewel-encrusted crown while Rey helped Ani out of her booster seat.

Everyone was watching them, waiting for the birthday girl, then once she was on the ground and able to see them, they all cried out HAPPY BIRTHDAY as loud as they could.

“Mommy,” Ani blinked in awe. Her bugged eyes taking all of it in: the sounds, the colors, the steamers and banners and balloons. “Is this — Is this for me?” She peered up shyly, glancing from Rey to Ben. “Daddy, is this all for me?”

 _“_ Yeah, baby.” Ben nodded. The corner of his lip rising. “It’s all for you.”

 _“_ Happy Birthday, sweetie.” Rey cupped her little face, running her thumb along her cheek, watching her eyes light up. “Do you want to go say hello?”

Ani nodded quickly, then took off, heading straight for Uncle Finn. Her brown braid bouncing behind her as she crossed the lawn.

There were other kids there, kids from her Sunday school class at church, but as soon as Ani saw Finn, everyone else was invisible.

She hadn’t seen him in a couple days, which was a couple days too long. Not just for her. But for him too. Especially when he wasn’t babysitting her on his day’s off like he used to. Or having her come over and spend the night with him and Poe, now that Ben was back in the picture.

“Do you know who I am?” Finn reared back, showing off his outfit.

“ _Finn Ryder,”_ She grinned, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

Poe was trying not to laugh as he fixed the hem of her dress.

Flynn Rider. Finn Rider. Same thing.

“But may I just say — _Hi.”_ Finn cooed with a raised brow, giving her his best side smirk.

Rey made her way over towards them, lifting the skirt of her gown a few inches off the ground to keep from stepping on it. A bright smile on her face. Ben was following along behind her, his hands shoved into his pockets, staying at a distance. He hadn’t spoken to either of the Dameron’s since his mother’s funeral, or that brief albeit memorable conversation he had with Poe in the parking lot at Lando’s. And he had a hunch, based on the subtle glares that he was getting, that now wasn’t really the best time to start.

So, he stayed back, exchanging a knowing look with Hux from across the yard while Rey greeted her friends.

“Hey, Mama.” Finn bent forward, kissing her on the cheek. “We took the cakes in the house. Let me know whenever you’re ready and we’ll bring them out.”

“Thank you for picking them up,” she touched his forearm, then turned to Poe, pulling him in for a hug while trying not to knock off his helmet. “Is everything set up? Or do we need to do anything else?” She asked as they separated.

She was in mom mode now.

“Everything’s been taken care of.” Finn assured her. “Rose and Maz did the decorations and the snacks. Han and Chewie blew up the bounce house and hung up the banners.” He pointed towards the tree trunks where many of them were tied off. “We picked up the cakes, then stopped by Lando’s and got ice cream. Everything’s done.”

“It looks so good,” she said with a relieved sigh.

“Yeah, well… Have a little faith in us, _manita_.” Poe teased, before cutting his eyes over at Ben. “It’s not like this is our first one.”

Ben chewed on his bottom lip, then drew it into his mouth.

It was a simple sentence, a mere statement of fact, but the aftertaste made him feel like Poe had ran him through with a sword. Plunging the blade deep into his gut, then giving it one more hard thrust just to make certain that the blow was fatal.

“Poe.” Rey said warningly, only to get a shrugging “ _What?_ ” in response.

Ben bowed his head, staring at the ground, his jaw working through a defense that he knew he didn’t have. Then, with a defeated sigh, he moved out from behind Rey, his hand brushing along the small of her back, letting her know without words that he was going somewhere else.

And as he walked off, Rey had the urge to go after him. Knowing that the carefree Ben that had driven them there wasn’t who she was looking at now. And she _would_ go after him. But first, she had a bone to pick with Poe Dameron. Her sad expression hardening as she whipped around to face him.

“Really?” She asked tersely.

Finn took that as a cue for him and Ani to go get their faces painted, or maybe get something to drink, or a snack. Anything other than watching his husband get scolded for being right.

Because he _was_ right, even if his timing was wrong.

“Did you have to do that?”

“Well, I mean, I probably didn’t _have_ to.” Poe huffed, trying to cross his arms, but his vest-dress was too tight, so he just ended up putting them back down at his sides. “But I’m not going to roll out the red carpet and pop open a bottle of champagne just because Hollywood finally decided to come home.”

“I’m not asking you to.” She countered. Eyes narrowed. “I know that you don’t like him, and I know that you don’t trust him, but today isn’t about you. It’s about Ani. And I’m not going to let you insult her father right in front of her just because you don’t think he should be here.”

“You’re right,” Poe shifted his feet, looking stiff. “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.”

Rey set him with a glare. “Then stay away from him!”

She stormed off after that, jerking her dress up from the ground and leaving Poe to sulk. She didn’t want to fight with him, or have to choose between her friends or Ben, but today wasn’t the day to start airing out everyone’s dirty laundry. And she definitely wasn’t going to sit back and let Poe Dameron, of all people, throw stones at Ben as if his own house wasn’t made of glass. Nor was she going to let Ben walk around on eggshells, at his own child’s birthday party, just because her friends didn’t want him there.

“Someone’s angry,” Han smirked behind a highball glass half-full of whiskey. Why he was drinking whiskey at a children’s birthday party, she didn’t know.

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

“Yeah, well — annoyance is anger’s ugly cousin. What happened?”

“Poe and his sarcasm happened. Do you know where Ben went?” Her eyes scanned around the yard. “Nevermind, I see him.” She let out a sigh of relief, then pointed to the glass in Han's hand. “Go easy on that. We don’t need you sloshed before it’s time to open presents.”

“Listen here, I’ve been drinking for — ”

She flailed her hand at him, not waiting for him to finish his “ _I’ve been drinking for 50 years”_ speech. A trick that she had learned from Leia.

Ben was talking with Hux and Rose on the other side of the picnic tables, his back to her, with one hand shoved into the pocket of his trouser while the other held onto a purple cup that had a hair-swinging Rapunzel printed on the side of it.

When she came up behind him, she circled her arms around his waist, smiling up as he turned around to see who it was. The corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk once he realized it was her.

“Hi,” she said softly, resting her chin on his bicep.

He raised his arm, draping it over her shoulders and bringing her into their huddle. “Hi back.”

“I’m sorry that Poe’s an idiot.”

Ben crinkled his nose, shrugging dismissively. “Dameron’s been an idiot since the third grade. It’s fine.”

“You remember when he dared you to climb that tree?” Hux pointed up to the massive weeping willow, a cigarette between his fingers. “Then, you slipped on a branch about ten feet up.”

“I thought _you_ dared him to do that,” Rose glanced over at Hux.

“Poe dared him to climb the tree. I dared him to spray paint ‘ _I Eat Pussy_ ’ on the water tower.” Armie broke out in a laugh. “It’s funny now. But none of us were laughing back then.”

“No, you and Poe hid in the fucking woods while Sheriff Tarkin put me in handcuffs.” Ben narrowed his eyes as he brought the cup to his lips. “That mean, old bastard thought it said ‘ _I act pissy_.’ And I was too embarrassed to correct him.”

“We were, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?” Hux took a drag off his cigarette.

“I was fourteen. You two were fifteen.”

And they didn’t know the first thing about eating pussy.

One of them didn’t even _like_ pussy.

But thankfully, instead of throwing Ben in the county jail, Tarkin had taken him home — ordering him to have it cleaned off by the end of the week.

“Dameron helped me paint over it,” Ben looked to his left, watching Poe kneel next to Ani while they both watched Finn get a yellow sun painted on his cheek. “Us leaving really fucked with him, didn’t it?” He said with a hard swallow. His jaw working from left to right, fighting a frown.

“Yes, it did.” Rey answered him gently, but honestly. Her hand splayed across his stomach as they stood side by side, looking in the same direction. “And I don’t think you realize just how much.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.” He admitted. “I want to. Because I miss the little shit. But I don’t know how.”

Rey smiled softly, then stepped out from under his arm and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Just give him some time.” She said as she snatched his cup and downed the rest of his Kool-aid. “But for now, we should probably mingle with the other parents.”

“What?” Ben blinked as she handed him the empty cup. “Why?”

“You know how we invited a few kids from Ani’s Sunday school class?”

His brows pinched as he gave a long, drawn-out “Yeah?”

“Well, some of them are going to be starting kindergarten with her.” Rey explained as she began to lead him, more like pull him, in the direction of the picnic tables. “Rose… Hux… We’ll find you guys later.” She called over her shoulder as Ben stared at the wisps of hair that curled from her temples. _God, she was beautiful._ “Anyway, I want us to get to know their parents.”

“Um,” he crinkled his nose, clearly not liking this idea. “ _Why_?”

“Because,” she said with a lilt in her voice. “If we’re going to be stuck with these people for thirteen years., then we need to weed out our enemies. And right now, we have home-field advantage.”

Ben didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Sweetheart, are you already trying to compete with the other moms?”

“Please, as if you won’t have a pissing contest with the dads.”

“First of all, it’s dick measuring.” He pointed out. “And we both know that my dick isn’t small.”

Her head shot around, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her cheeks turning pink. “Ben!”

“What?!”

—————

Ani could see Uncle Finn through the mesh netting of the bouncy castle. An arm crossed over his chest, dangling her princess slippers in between his fingers, while the other one kept waving at her each time she made a pass around his side of the fortress. He wasn’t allowed to go inside with her because he was too big, but he promised that he would wait in the hayfield while she hopped around with Bryan and Toby.

They were twins, like Nana and Uncle Luke, and the only way that Ani could tell them apart was because Bryan wore thick, coke-bottle glasses and Toby didn’t. But they were both really tall and really scrawny, with hair as black as Daddy’s and a frown as mean as Uncle Chewie’s. And she had always wanted to be friends with them, because they liked superheroes, just like she did, and they were really good at drawing monster trucks, just like she was.

But for some odd reason, Bryan and Toby didn’t like to play with girls.

“Do you want to race me — on the _ob-sickle_ course?” Ani asked Bryan between bounces. Her bare feet digging into the nylon flooring.

Bryan pushed up his glasses, trying to keep them on his face, and stared at her.

He was the quiet one. Never really saying much.

It was Toby that usually did most of the talking.

“He doesn’t want to.” Toby answered for him.

They were both dressed like a pair of Medieval knights, and she really liked their armor, but whenever she told them that, they ignored her.

“Then do _you_ wanna race?” She smiled brightly, showing her dimples. “We can start over here by the —“

“NO!” Toby frowned at her, jumping so close, and so rough, that Ani lost her balance and fell backwards. “Boys don’t race with girls!” He jeered.

“Stop it, Toby! They do too.”

“Not ugly ones!”

Her whole face seemed to sink at that word. That bad word. The word that you were never supposed to say to someone, because it would make their heart hurt — kind of like how hers was hurting now.

But the part that Mommy had left out whenever she was telling her why that word was bad, was that it didn’t only make her heart hurt. It made her belly hurt too. A great, big ache that swooped and sloshed like a bathtub with too much water.

“You — You shouldn’t say — say that, Toby.” She pouted up at him, eyes glassy and downturned. “It’s not nice.” Her head shook.

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be in here! This castle is for boys.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ani gulped. Her voice so small that it was hardly a whisper. “Girls can play here if they want to.”

“Not ugly girls!”

“Yeah, not ugly girls.” Bryan finally spoke.

She tried not to let her lip quiver, because if her lip quivered, then that meant that she was going to cry. And if she cried, then they would think that she was a baby and not want to be her friend. So, she tried to tighten her mouth the way Daddy always did when he was nervous. But when Bryan and Toby started jumping around the edges of the room, singing “ _ugly, ugly, Anakin is ugly_ ,” her mouth just wouldn’t stay tight.

She tried to hurry to her feet, but with the way that the floor was moving, it was hard to keep her balance so her knees kept buckling. Which made Toby laugh. And then Bryan laughed because Toby did. And that made her belly hurt even worse.

When she made it down the exit slide and onto the crash mat, Finn was coming around the side of the castle. His footsteps picking up once he saw the look on her face. Her shoes flopping in his hand.

“Peanut, are you alright?” He called out, rushing to get to her.

“I want — I want my Daddy.” She said in a hiccup.

“Ani, honey, what is it? What happened?”

Finn could feel his heart start to race, worried that she had gotten hurt.

But before he had time to check and see, Ani was already running barefoot towards the house. Feet stinging each time she stepped on a rock in the hayfield. Lungs constricting the faster she ran.

“DADDY!” She screamed loud enough to turn several heads.

One of them being Ben’s.

He didn’t know what was going on, or what was wrong. But it had taken less than a second for him to be on his feet and pushing through the crowd. His fork landing somewhere on the ground by the picnic table. His bite of mashed potatoes not even fully chewed.

Once he reached the edge of the yard, he could see her running through the hayfield with Finn trying, but failing, to keep up with her. But Ben noticed that he had her shoes in his hand. Which meant that Ani wasn’t wearing them. And there had always been tiny shards of glass and metal shavings on the ground outside of Chewie’s barn from where he worked on his farm equipment. Sharp pieces that were impossible to see in between the gravel.

“No, baby, wait!” Ben bolted towards her. His crown slipping off his head.

He was afraid that she would step on something. But with his long, tree-trunk legs, he had crossed the front of the barn and scooped her up off the ground before she ever made it out of the hayfield.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Are you hurt?”

He tried to check for scrapes, or welts, or any sign of an injury, but her arms and legs had latched onto him like a little octopus, and her forehead was burrowed into his neck. So, he had to blindly feel around her knees, her calves, both feet, making sure there wasn’t any blood. Then her elbow, and wrist, and fingers. Nothing.

But she was breathing _so hard_. Taking great big gulps of air that shook through her entire diaphragm. Ratting and trembling and _wheezing._ And the second he heard it, that harsh, yet familiar, whistling inside of her lungs, Ben started to panic.

“Baby, look at me. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” He turned his head to the side, kissing her cheek. Mostly to calm her. Partly to calm himself. Then, he began rubbing his hand up and down her ribs, trying to help her to relax. “You’re okay. Everything’s fine. But I need you to look at me. Can you do that?"

“D-D-Daddy — ”

“BEN!”

He whipped his head around towards the house, hand splayed across her back, feeling her whole body shake through a breath, then a cough, then another long, drawn-out whistle. Rey was racing towards them, holding up her dress skirt and struggling to keep her ballet flats on her feet, and he could tell by her face that she was terrified.

“Ani, sweetie, what’s wrong? Ben, what’s wrong?”

He leaned back, trying to pry her off of him so that she could get more air. But she was so limp, and her cough was becoming worse, and the whistling was getting louder.

“D-Daddy, I can’t — bre — eathe.”

_Fuck._

He jerked his head towards Rey. Her eyes so watery that he wasn’t sure if she could even see him. But all it took was that look on her face, as if she were seconds from crashing and needed him to take the wheel — then something inside of him, something deep and primal and instinctive, quickly _snapped_.

“ _Ben,_ ” Rey choked out a whispery sob.

And as soon as that hitch in her voice reached his ears, he was _gone_.

His long legs carrying him back across the gravel, through the crowd, and towards the front of the house. His hand palming the back of Ani’s head to keep from jarring her too hard.

“D-Daddy, I’m — scared.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make it better. I promise.” He had crossed the yard within seconds — his hair beating against his forehead, his eyes searching for Han. “DAD!” He cried out, taking the porch steps two at a time, then swung open the screen door and darted inside the house. “DAD, I NEED YOUR INHALER.”

Han was in the den with Chewie and Lando, kicked back on the couch and taking advantage of the air conditioning. But once they saw the panic on Ben’s face, and Ani lying limp in his arms, gasping for air, they were on their feet and hurrying towards them.

“What? What is it, son? What’s wrong?”

“I need your inhaler.”

“It’s — It’s in the Falcon. Glovebox.”

Ben swung back around, mumbling _fuck_ as he raced back through the house and out the door again. He met Rey on the porch, but before she could ask him what he was doing, he was storming past her.

“BEN!”

“I’m getting Dad’s inhaler!” He called back to her. “Ani, baby, keep breathing through your nose, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. Do you believe me?”

“Y-Yeah.” She coughed into his neck.

He nearly tore the door to the Falcon off of its hinges, and when he popped open the glovebox, an avalanche of napkins and receipts fell out onto the floorboard. Han’s rescue inhaler was in amongst it. And after he checked to make sure that it wasn’t expired, and that it wasn’t empty, he sank down into the passenger seat.

“Sweetheart, I need you to sit up.” Ben forced her off of his shoulder, not giving her an option. “I know you don’t feel good. But this is going to make it better, okay? I just need you to open your mouth, and then you’re going to take a deep breath when I tell you to. Can you do that for me?”

“O-kay, D-Daddy.”

He shook the inhaler roughly, like he had seen Han do a thousand times, and then he brought it to her lips. Her hands wrapping around his wrist. His index finger lingering on the top of the canister. Then, right before he pushed down, he told her to inhale as much as she could, timing it himself so that the medicine would get into her airways.

Rey was by their side before Ben could even pull the inhaler from her mouth. Her body sinking beside the passenger seat and bracing herself on the top of his thigh. He had one leg inside the Falcon. His other still on the grass. And together they were watching Ani like two, circling hawks.

“Deep breaths, sweetheart.” Ben told her softly as his left hand spread across her back, his right on her chest, with the width of both of them encasing her entire torso. “In and out. Just like that.”

“You’re doing so good, sweetie. So good.” Rey tried to soothe her, running a hand along the shape of Ani’s head to smooth back her flyaways. Then, she turned over her shoulder, watching Hux and Han sprint towards them. “Where’s Rose?”

“Gone to get her med bag out of the car.” Hux thumbed behind him. His eyepatch pushed up on his forehead. “Is she — Is she alright?”

Ben would give up everything he had, or owned, just to be able to say yes to that. But her cheeks were still flushed, and her chest was still shaking, and her mouth was drawn into an ‘O’ as she took in big gulps of air, then blew them back out. So, he didn’t know _how_ to answer that. Was she alright? Was something wrong with his child? Something that he couldn’t protect her from?

He had never felt anything like this before.

This deep and visceral worry that something out of his control could hurt her, or make her sick, or take her from him. And that worry made him wonder if _this_ was what it felt like to be a father. Not just the joy that it brought him. But the _fear_ that he felt whenever something, like this, went wrong. A fear that had sent him running to his own father, desperate for help.

But when Ani looked up at him, all wet lashes and flushed cheeks and a little mouth that slowly turned into smile, Ben didn’t have to _wonder_ if this was what being a father felt like.

He knew.

“I’m s-sorry I — I scared you, D-Daddy.”

“I know, baby.” He gave her a watery nod. “It’s okay.”

“Y-You too, Mommy.” She turned to Rey. Her breaths much more even. “I didn’t — I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Rey’s face twisted into a sad smile, her lips trembling as she wiped the back of her hand across her chin. “I know you didn’t, sweetie. Are you able to breathe a little better now? Did that make you feel better?”

“I think so,” she bobbed her head, sighing just to appease them. “But I don’t think I wanna run anymore.”

Ben choked out a laugh, leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

Rose was pushing her way through a wall of watchful uncles, then sidestepped Han and Maz until she was at the door of the Falcon. A stethoscope already in her ears. “Let me have a listen,” she said as she carefully wedged herself between Rey and the passenger door.

She pressed the chest piece onto Ani’s back first, dabbing it from one spot, then to another, stopping long enough to hear her lungs before moving to her front. Ben explained the wheezing, the shaking, how she just couldn’t catch her breath, and even though the worst was pretty much over, Rose could still pick up a faint whistle every time Ani inhaled.

“Am I okay, Aunt Rose?”

“You, my sweet girl, are perfectly perfect.” Rose smiled, tapping a finger on her little nose. “But can you breathe in real deep for me? That’s it. Now, let it out.”

Ani raised both brows. “Does it sound like lungs?”

“Sure sounds like lungs to me,” Rose winked. “Strong, little lungs. But do you feel any pain? Any discomfort? Are you hurting anywhere?”

Ani shook her head no.

“Are you right as rain?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I’m right as rain.”

When Rose stood up and moved out of the way, Rey was quick to take her place. Her arms reaching out, whispering “ _Give her to me_ ” a lot harsher, and sharper, than she had intended. Not that Ben thought anything of it. He knew by her eyes that she just needed to hold her.

And as soon as she had her in her arms and stood to her feet, Rey was choking out a sob. Her head turning to kiss Ani’s cheek, then her jaw, her ear, her chin.

This was the first time that something like this had ever happened. Of course, there had been times in the past where she had gotten too worked up and had to calm herself down, but it had never been this severe.

“I think she needs to see a specialist.” Rose told Ben quietly as he stood up from the Falcon.

His eyes drifted over to Rey, watching her pace towards the back of the car with Ani cradled to her chest. “You think she might have asthma?”

“I suspect it. Yes.” She folded her stethoscope in her hands, looking over her shoulder as Hux and Han came over to them.

“She okay?” Han rubbed his jaw, then looked up at Ben. “Everything alright?”

“I think it might’ve been an asthma attack,” Rose explained. “From what Ben was saying, and from what I could hear when I listened to her lungs, it sounds like asthma. But you’ll have to take her to a specialist and have some tests run in order to know _for sure_ that that’s what it is.”

Ben let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair, and then stepped away from them, taking slow steps towards his girls. Rey looked up when she saw him coming, her eyes still waterlogged despite the relief, and he could tell, just by the way she was staring at him, that she wanted him to do something. To hold her. Or just stand there and be near them.

Either was fine. But he preferred the former.

So, he wrapped his arms around both of them, kissing the top of Rey’s head and letting his nose linger in her hair just long enough to smell that sweet-scented leave-in conditioner that she had seen at Target and wanted to try. “I love you.” He whispered into her temple.

She nodded quickly, holding in another sob.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Mommy.” Ani said as she played with the laces on her dress. “I was just — I was just — I was jumping with Bryan and Toby. And I wanted to race the _ob-sickle_ course with them. But Toby said that he didn’t race with girls. And then he called me ugly. And it made my heart hurt really bad. And I wanted Daddy to make it better, ‘cause he says that I’m pretty like you are. But then my head felt dizzy and I couldn’t breathe very good and I —”

Rey didn’t have to see Ben to know that he had gone rigid, and as soon as he stepped back, his hand slipping from her waist, she was reaching for his wrist. Trying to keep him still.

“ _What_?” He said in a whisper that sounded more like a growl.

“Ben,” Rey gently squeezed his wrist, then turned to Ani. “Sweetheart, you’re not ugly.” She was trying to soften the tension, so that it wouldn’t escalate. But she could feel the muscle in Ben’s forearm contract, and his eye was twitching, and she had a feeling he was seconds from combusting. “You can’t listen to what—”

“Who said that to you?” Ben cut her off. His face twisted into a hard frown.

 _Annnnnd, there was the combustion_.

“Who the fuck is Toby?” His eyes shot down at Rey, then realized he had said _fuck_ , so his head jerked right back to Ani. “Ear muffs, sweetheart."

Ani clapped her hands over her ears.

“Rey, who the fuck is Toby? Better yet, _where_ the fuck is Toby?”

She tilted her head back, looking up at him. A smirk threatening to curl at her lips. “He’s a seven year old boy.” She told him with a raised brow.

“And I will beat his seven year old ass. Now, where is he? Point him out.”

She loved how protective he was, how aggressive and rugged, like a big ol’ Angus bull pawing his hoof at the ground. And under any other circumstances, Rey probably would’ve let him loose on the whole soirée, because she was just as angry as he was, knowing that some little punk had told her kid that she was ugly.

But wanting to beat the living shit out of a seven year old, and _actually_ beating the living shit out of a seven year old, were two different things.

And when it came to Ani, Ben Solo would absolutely fight a child.

So, to keep him from starting an all-out brawl in front of the ladies in her Women’s Bible Study group, Rey reached up before he could walk away, and snaked her hand along his neck, tugging him down until his lips were inches from hers.

“What are you — ”

Rey liked to think that she was above being a distraction, or that she’d never use Ben’s weakness, aka _her,_ as a way to get him to do what she wanted. But to be fair, it had been a few hours since she had kissed him, and he had been so quick to react when Ani needed him, and he just looked _so damn good_ as a Medieval king — so honestly, this was for her.

But if teasing the crease of his mouth with the tip of her tongue happened to also be a distraction?

Then, well — that was on him.

“Ew.” Ani crinkled her nose, watching Daddy lean into Mommy like a puppy getting scratched behind the ear. “Can I put my hands down now?”

—————

When it came time to watch Ani open her presents, and everyone had gathered around a table full of wrapped boxes and sealed envelopes and gift bags decorated with fluffed-up tissue paper — what was supposed to be a moment where they could all spoil her senseless, quickly turned into this unspoken battle of the uncles.

Ben and Rey were trying to pretend that they didn’t notice it. Choosing instead to help Ani move on to the next gift. But out of the corner of their eyes, they could see Finn and Poe shooting daggers at Hux — while Hux, with his arms crossed over his chest, shot a few of his own right back at them.

It all started after Finn and Poe bought her a bicycle. A pink one with a basket on the front and glittery streamers coming out of the handle bars. She had been wanting one for about a year, and before Ben and Rey could get it for her, the Dameron’s swooped in and had one custom-made with her name written on the down tube.

Which was fine.

No big deal.

Finn and Poe loved her and treated her like their own child. And Ben knew that he was never going to be able to repay them for everything that they had done for her, and for Rey, while he was off being an idiot.

But right after Ani finished squealing over her new bike, Poe looked over at Hux from all the way across the yard, then raised his brow, tipping his head and giving him a _top-that-one_ smirk. And Finn, who wasn’t quite as haughty as his husband, simply threw up his shoulders in a shrug, signaling that the game was officially afoot.

And Ben wouldn’t lie, it was pretty fucking hilarious.

Because one of them was wearing a damn horned Viking helmet.

Another was dressed up as a crown-stealing swashbuckler.

And Hux had on a fucking eyepatch that didn’t quite fit his big-ass head.

So, it brought a whole other level of humor to their dick-measuring contest.

But the tides quickly turned once Ani tore open a multi-level, fully-furnished dollhouse from Uncle Hugs. And even though Ben knew that he was going to be coerced into putting the thing together later, he still relished in the look on Finn and Poe’s faces whenever Ani ran over to Hux, throwing her arms around his legs and telling him that it was, quote, _exactly what she had wanted._

“Two can play this game, assholes.” Hux mumbled to himself while inconspicuously flipping them off.

It went back and forth for awhile — with the Dameron’s buying her a nightlight projector that would turn her bedroom into a galaxy, while Hux matched it with some kind of a plasma orb light that made little bolts of purple and blue electricity crackle and move whenever she touched the globe.

And it was impossible to tell which gift she liked more, or loved more, because her eyes lit up at every single one of them. Uncle Chewie and Aunt Maz’s bracelet maker kit. Aunt Rose’s doctor-themed kid’s play set, with her own pink, medical bag and stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. All of the new clothes that Mommy and Daddy had gotten her. And Poppy’s stereotypical card full of money.

She loved it all, and she was so adorably appreciative. Running to give each of them hugs between presents. Smiling so big that it was a wonder her jaw didn’t cramp.

And it was great.

It was wholesome.

And she was having the time of her little life.

But what she didn’t know was that Mommy and Daddy were about to drop the mic.

“What is it, Mommy?” Ani blinked up after opening the last present — a postcard in a gold, glittery envelope.

“What does it look like?” Rey tilted her head, trying not to smile.

Ani stared down at it, holding the postcard near her belly, her fingers gently grasping the edges and turning it from one side to the other. “A picture?” She asked shyly. Her voice small.

Ben knelt down next to her. His hand on her back. “A picture of what?”

“Of Mickey Mouse… and Minnie.” She pointed. "And a castle… and fireworks.”

Ben smirked, unable to help himself. She looked so confused, as if she didn’t quite know what it was, or what it meant, but she didn’t want to tell them that because it might hurt their feelings.

“It’s a picture of Disneyland.” Rey told her softly, then paused. Giving it time to sink in. She and Ben had already been sitting on this for nearly a month, so surely a few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “That’s where Daddy and I are going to take you. To Disneyland.”

“Disneyland?” She whispered, her eyes growing wide as she looked from Rey, to Ben, then back to Rey. “Mommy, are we really going? You and Daddy are gonna take me?”

“Yes, sweetie. We’re really going to take you. But we have to wait just a little bit before we go. Is that okay?”

“Uh huh,” she hiccuped. “That’s oh — That’s okay.”

Ben wrapped his arms around her from behind, and then kissed the side of her head, whispering. “ _Happy Birthday, sweetheart_.”

He and Rey knew what was coming, and they had practiced it. Bracing themselves for it from the second they bought the tickets and booked a private plane. Because believe it or not, they were both soft as cotton, and they knew that her reaction to going to Disneyland would more than likely gut them like a tuna.

But when Ani turned over her shoulder, peering up at Ben with those big, brown eyes, her bottom lip starting to quiver — it was obvious that trying to brace themselves had just been a colossal waste of time.

“Daddy, you promise you’ll take me?” She asked him softly, with her brows rising high and her throat giving a little gulp.

There it was — that knife to the gut.

“Yeah, baby. I promise.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, stopping a tear in its tracks. “As soon as we get to California, that’s the first place we’re going. You, me, and Mommy.”

Well, and Uncle Luke, Uncle Hugs and Aunt Rose. But Ben didn’t have time to tell her that, because before he could say the words, Ani was smashing into his chest, throwing her arms around his shoulders and letting out a high-pitched _wail_ into the front of his tunic.

“ _We’re — going — to —_ ” She cried in hiccuped intervals, all red-faced and snot-nosed. “ _DISNEY_?”

Rey was on her knees next to them, rubbing her hand up and down Ani’s back, and giving him the “ _We probably should’ve waited to tell her_ ” look. They wouldn’t be going until October, because that was when Ben had to be in court. And since Rey refused to let him face Snoke and the label without her, they decided to turn a two-day trip into a week-long, family vacation.

But with Ani having a total meltdown in front of God and everyone, they were beginning to wonder if _maybe_ they should’ve sprung this on her the night before, or in the very least, a little closer to time.

“Will Rapunzel be there?” Ani pulled back, blinking away her tears. “And — And _Finn_ Rider?”

“ _They fucking better be_ ,” Ben thought to himself.

He’d hate to make a scene at the happiest place on earth, but he wasn’t above it.

“And will we get to meet Mickey Mouse? And Minnie? And Pluto?”

Rey wiped a teardrop off of Ani's chin. “I’m sure we will.”

“And can we buy Minnie Mouse ears to wear on our heads?”

“Oh, we are _definitely_ doing that.” Rey smirked at Ben, then snorted after he rolled his eyes. “ _Daddy doesn’t know it yet_ ,” she whispered to Ani. “… _but we’re getting matching shirts too_.”

His was going to say ‘ **If lost, please return to Rey** ’ while hers said ' _ **I'm Rey**._"

—————

Once her tears had dried up and her nose was blown, they moved on to the cake.

They had bought a small one specifically for her — with three, narrow tiers covered in rich, buttercream frosting, a Tangled-themed tower shaped out of intricately-woven fondant, and little figurines of Rapunzel, Flynn Rider, and Maximus placed around each layer as if they were going on an adventure.

And yes, it was a little pricy for a cake this size. Not to mention a cake that she’d probably only eat two bites of, if that. But again, Rey and Ben spared no expense.

They had even ordered a sheet cake big enough to feed everyone else — half chocolate, half vanilla — with tiny, flowers and vines drawn along the edges and ‘ _Happy 5th Birthday, Ani!’_ written in purple icing next to an edible image of Rapunzel brushing her hair.

Ani seemed to love her little one, because she kept asking if she could eat this, or eat that, pointing at the shingled roof on the tower, or the foliage around the base, then giggled once Rey told her that, yes, everything was edible. Well, except for the figurines. But those, Ani had decided, would live in her new dollhouse from Uncle Hugs.

Ben was tasked with lighting her candles. A feat that, despite nearly perfect weather, wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. But after fighting the breeze, with his hand cupped around the wick, and then wincing every time his palm got a little to close to the flames, he was finally able to get each one of them lit at the same time.

“Alright, ladybug!” Rey grinned as she held Ani’s braid back, not wanting it get singed. “Make a wish!”

Everyone was in an arch around the picnic table, watching and grinning and snapping pictures of the birthday girl as she leaned over the candles and thought about what she wanted to wish for. And it should’ve taken her a minute or so to decide, because for a five year old, her imagination was limitless. But after what happened in the bouncy castle with Bryan and Toby, Ani knew _exactly_ what she wanted — even if she wasn’t quite sure how to get it.

But Mommy and Daddy would know.

They knew everything.

So, she drew in a deep breath, puffing her cheeks, and then blew out as hard as she could, causing the flames to disappear and leave little swirls of smoke in their place.

“What’d ya wish for, kid?” Han asked as he brought his cup of spiked Kool-Aid to his lips.

Ani cut her eyes over at Toby, furrowing her brows the way Daddy did whenever he was mad. “A baby sister.”

That Kool-Aid spewed right out of Han’s mouth. His hand flying up to stop it. 

Everyone else, aside from Ben and Rey, and apparently the Dameron’s, seemed to enjoy her very _Kids Say The Darndest Things_ answer. But if Ben’s eyebrows rose any higher, then they were at risk of getting lost in his hairline. And poor Rey, despite her grin, looked like she wanted to crawl under the picnic table — with her face blood-red and her heart beating a little faster than it probably should’ve.

“Wow. Oh-kay. How ‘bout some cake?” Ben quickly deflected.

Rey snapped her eyes up to him, watching as he scratched the back of his neck and made a point to look everywhere else but at her. And she knew that he probably didn’t mean anything by it, and that he was just as embarrassed as she was, but a small part of her expected a different reaction from him. Something that didn’t make her whole body suddenly deflate like a popped balloon.

He seemed to sense the change in her mood, or in her body language, because he finally glanced over at her. But now it was her turn to be evasive. Which she knew wasn’t fair to him, because despite how it made her feel, he really hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just nervous, and overthinking it, and didn’t want to have to explain why — so she dodged the look on his face, afraid of what she might see if she did.

Thankfully though, after cutting off a piece of cake for Ani, she noticed that they had forgotten to get the ice cream out of the freezer. Which gave her an excuse to get away for a minute. To walk off the knot in her stomach and remind herself that she was being ridiculous. Because she _was_ being ridiculous. Yet, it didn’t _feel_ ridiculous. It felt like a dismissal. Like he didn’t even want to think about something like that, let alone consider it. And that made her wonder if his deflection meant that he didn’t want any more kids.

Which, again, was ridiculous. Because they weren’t even remotely ready to have that conversation. Or maybe, deep down, she was ready for the conversation, just not the action.

Either way, this wasn’t the time or the place for it.

But as she walked towards the house, wiping ridiculous tears off of her ridiculous face, Ben was jogging after her, trying to catch up. “Rey, what’s wrong?”

“We forgot to get the ice cream,” she told him as she climbed up the steps and onto the front porch.

He followed her through the door and into the house, knowing good and well that she wasn’t crying over a tub of ice cream. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

“That sounds like something you’d say if you were mad at me,” he teased playfully, running his hand up her arm and stopping at the crease of her elbow. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything.” She shook her head, still not looking at him, but not trying to get away from him either. “Did you check to see if the lanterns work?”

“No,” He answered quickly, then carefully turned her around and backed her into the kitchen island. His lips ghosting along her cheek, her jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses until he reached the little, fleshy space behind her ear. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

She leaned her head against his, cheek to cheek, and then wrapped her arms around his waist, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was an odd feeling, not being able to get the words out. Or just tell him what was on her mind. Because communication was one of the many reasons that being with him was so easy, so effortless. And she knew that he would listen to her, and that he cared about what she thought, or needed, or wanted. But she was terrified of what his answer might be. And she was even more terrified of it not being the same as hers.

“If I asked you for a baby,” she whispered into his neck. Gripping her hands onto his tunic to keep them from shaking. “Would you give me one?”

He pulled back slightly, staring at the top of her head since she _still_ refused to look him in the eyes. “Wh—”

The word didn’t even get out of his mouth before she was nervously rewording the question, “If I told you that I wanted to have a baby, _right now_ , with you — would you want one with me?”

“Well, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes, visibly confused. “I mean, I’m not sure if we’re ready for another kid yet. But if that’s what you want, then obviously I’ll supply the batter."

“Will you stop calling it batter?” She laughed despite a stream of tears leaving lines down her foundation.

“Would you prefer I call it cum?”

“I would prefer we change the subject.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with this one yet.” He tucked his index finger under her chin, lifting her watery eyes up to his and smirking down at her. Loving the way her cheeks flushed. “Do you want a baby?”

“Do _YOU_?” She said as her hands moved to his stomach, fiddling with the buttons on his vest.

There was a faint twitch on the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but awfully close. Then, he eased forward, taking his sweet time before moving his lips along hers. “I asked you first.” He whispered, grinning.

“If I said yes…”

“Then, I guess we’re going upstairs.” He said boldly, even though they weren't even having sex.

“And if—” She sighed into his opened mouth, then kissed him again. “If I say no?”

“Then, I guess we’re going back outside.”

“I want to know what you want.”

“I want _you_.” He answered confidently — without even hesitating, or giving pause, or having to think about it. “If you want a baby, then I want a baby. If you don’t, then I don’t. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.”

“Well, maybe I want whatever _you_ want!” She gripped his vest — seconds from shaking some sense into him. “God, we’re like Noah and Allie.”

“Who’s Noah and Allie?”

“They’re from _The Notebook_. Nevermind. I just — ” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, centering herself. “I love being a mom. And I love watching you be a dad. And yes, I want a baby. I want a whole house full of babies. But I only want them if they’re with you.” She peered up at him, biting her lip. “So, if you don’t want to have —”

His lips were back on hers before she could finish that sentence. His hand palming the underside of her jaw while the other roamed up her side, settling at the base of her ribs. “The only thing that I want,” he leaned back just a hair, his voice coming out in a soft whisper. Their lips still touching. “…is to make sure that you get what you want. And I don’t care what I have to do in order to make that happen — just as long as it happens. So, if you want a baby, then I’ll give you a baby. If you want a dozen of them, then I’ll give you a dozen of them. And since we’ll need bigger house to put them all in, then I’ll buy you a bigger house too. Hell, I’ll build it for you myself.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, tasting the salt from her tears. “But all I care about is that you get every fucking thing that you’ve ever wanted. That’s it.”

“I don’t always have to come first, Ben.” She shook her head, frowning.

“Yes, you do.” He smirked. “Otherwise, I won’t fit.”

“ _Oh my God_.” She barked out a laugh. Her face burning even hotter.

His expression softened as his thumbs brushed across her cheeks, clearing away the wetness. “I’m serious, Rey. I want whatever you want.” He looked her in the eyes, holding her head in his hands. “If you want more kids, then I want more kids. If you want to rob a fucking bank, then we’ll Bonnie and Clyde that motherfucker.” He couldn’t keep from chuckling. The sight of his dimples causing her to chuckle too. “I mean it. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“I love you,” she traced his lips with her finger, watching the bottom one give under the pressure. “And I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you what was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he leaned down, nuzzling their noses and grinning like a goof. “Just know that whatever is mine, is yours — including my baby batter.”

“For the love of God,” she snorted, pushing him off of her. “Let’s just get the ice cream before they think we had to go into town to get it.”

—————

If there was one thing that Ben took away from today, aside from Ani possibly having asthma and Rey wanting them to have about thirty-seven kids, it was that he didn’t know fuck-all about lighting lanterns. He had thought that if he bought the expensive, biodegradable ones, then they’d be made out of something sturdy, or at least something that wouldn’t crinkle in his big-ass hands whenever he opened the packaging.

Clearly that wasn’t the case.

But thankfully, he had ordered three-hundred of these little, flimsy bastards, so he could afford to lose a few.

“The video on YouTube said to light it, _then_ flip it over.” Hux said thoughtfully as he and Ben watched one of them burn to ashes right in front of their feet. “Maybe we’re not flipping the damn thing fast enough.”

“What if you hold it up while I light it from the bottom?” Ben stared down at what was left of the paper. His thumb repeatedly flicking the flint wheel of his cigarette lighter. “You think that would work?”

“I don’t know? Maybe.”

“Well, how did the Dameron’s do it?” Ben cocked his head to the side, watching both of their paper balloons glow a deep orange.

Finn and Poe obviously knew what they were doing. Which made Hux angrily grumble something that Ben didn’t quite understand, before bending over and snatching up another lantern.

“Rapunzel didn’t have this much trouble, Daddy.” Ani pointed out as she stood by Ben’s leg. Her hand gripping onto the outer seam of his trousers. “Maybe you should just blow in it.”

Rey smiled from a few feet away.

She and Rose already had theirs lit and were waiting for them to finish inflating. Because unlike some people, they weren’t too proud, or two stubborn, to follow the directions. Plus, it didn’t take a genius to know that the paper was thin and easily torn, so it had to be handled with care, and not like whatever those two Neanderthals were trying to do. 

“Open it wider,” Ben told Hux as he hunkered down, trying to move the fuel source away from the paper so that it wouldn’t meet the same fate as its comrade. “Okay, don’t move.”

“I’m not,” Hux whispered through clenched teeth. His whole body as stiff as a board.

Even after they finally had the thing lit, and the balloon had started filling out from the heat, they still didn’t move — too afraid of what might happen if they did. So, Rey rolled her eyes and ended up walking over to them. Taking the ring at the base and holding it for them while they tried to light two more.

One for Ben. One for Hux.

This one was Ani’s, and their little bundle of joy was practically chomping at the bit, trying to get a hold of it. But one emergency scare had been enough for today, so Rey wasn’t about to run the risk of Ani burning her fingers, or catching her hair on fire, or accidentally letting it go too early because the flame was too hot.

Fortunately though, now that Dumb and Dumber knew what they were doing, it didn’t take them as long to get the other two going. And once the paper had expanded into a perfect, orange bulb — they were finally ready to release them.

It was the perfect night to do it too, because the breeze was steady, and the air was warm, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight, giving them a clear view of the Milky Way. And with everyone standing out in the middle of the hayfield, far away from the house and the willow tree, they would be able to safely release them without hitting any branches, or power lines, or God-forbid the straw in Chewie’s barn.

“Be careful, okay?” Rey knelt down, passing Ani the lantern. “I don’t want it to burn you.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Ani nodded as she slowly took the ring and held it out in front of her.

She had a gleam in her eyes. A soft, little sparkle that glowed even brighter once she looked to her right at Rey, then to her left at Ben, waiting for them to tell her that she could let it go.

“ _All those days, watching from the windows_.” Rey sang softly as she tucked a hair behind Ani’s ear. The sudden sound of her voice causing a chill to lick up Ben’s arms, giving him goosebumps. “ _All those years, outside looking in. All that time, never even knowing, just how blind I’d been._ ” Her eyes lifted up to his. A toothless smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “On three?”

He nodded, unable to look away from her. His own smile spreading. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” Ani squealed out, then opened her hands, watching it start to lift from her fingers.

Ben and Rey followed her lead. Then, Hux and Rose. Finn and Poe. Han and Chewie and Maz. Dozens of them took off from the ground, all rising in uneven altitudes like a cluster of fireflies, and once the breeze started to carry them,Ani was staggering forward, eyes wide, mouth opened, arms hanging at her sides.

She had never seen something so beautiful. Not ever. And she wondered if this feeling, this tingle in her belly, was how Rapunzel felt whenever she watched them from the boat that _Finn_ Rider had stolen from the docks.

“Daddy, will you pick me up so I can see?” She ran towards him once the lanterns started floating higher and higher, wanting to use his towering height to her advantage.

Ben huffed out an airy laugh, then bent down, picked her up, and sat her on his shoulders. “That better?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded slowly — eyes pointed towards the sky.

He draped his free arm back around Rey’s shoulders, tucking her into his side, while his other hand held onto Ani’s knee. Then, together, they watched as the lanterns became little specs of orange, then a twinkle, then nothing at all. Just a blackened sky and a dusting of stars and a few flickering planes.

“Four,” Ben tucked his chin, whispering into the top of Rey’s head.

She had it lying over on his chest, snuggling into him and using his warmth to _her_ advantage, and then she let out a tired yawn. “Four what?”

“Kids.”

He couldn’t see it, but he knew she was smirking.

“What if I want five?”

“Then, we’ll have to have six, because five’s an odd number.”

He kissed the crown of her hair — both of them snickering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: The gang goes to Uncle Lando's for a Memorial Day pool party.


	21. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey, Ben, and Ani go to Lando's Memorial Day Barbecue.
> 
> (This chapter sort of spoils the ending to Game of Thrones. So, if you haven't seen it and plan to, then I suggest skipping this one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE. 
> 
> I hope you and your family are safe and healthy and are enjoy the holidays!
> 
> The next two chapters (after this one) is something that I've had planned for several months, and I'm really excited to get it out so that you all can read it.  
> 
> 
> The song for this one is "(I Can't Get No (Satisfaction)" by The Rolling Stones. Because, well, you'll see. LOL

Lando Calrissian lived in an old, three-story colonial estate on the west end of Chandrila. An estate that, to hear him tell it, had been the home of a Union general sometime during the earlier parts of the Civil War. He had no actual proof of that, of course, aside from a .44 caliber single-action revolver that he had found hidden beneath a loose plank in the upstairs bedroom floor, along with a few letters signed by a man named _Grievous._ But if anyone could sell a good, albeit hard-to-believe story — it was Lando.

The house though, regardless of whether or not it held any historical significance, was absolutely stunning. Like some kind of movie set for an 1800s noir, with four, white Doric columns holding up the front entrance, a gold lion’s head door knocker, and a crystal chandelier posing as a porch light. The brick siding had been refurbished and painted a light beige, but much of the original framework was still there. Especially on the inside, where a polished oak staircase sat on the far end of an opened foyer.

Rey could still remember the first time that she and Ben had ever visited the place — her wide, bulging gaze, mouth completely ajar, wondering how many flower shops she would have to open in order to sit this pretty.

Not that she didn’t love her grandfather’s home.

Or that she wasn’t grateful for what she had.

But dreaming of this sort of lavish grandeur never hurt anybody.

Besides, it was no different than imagining what she would do if she ever won the lottery. Making hypothetical purchases in her mind, all while knowing that she would never be well-off enough to have them.

Then again, Ben _did_ say a couple of weeks ago that he would build her a house if she wanted him to.

She followed him silently through the foyer. The two of them each holding a casserole dish covered in aluminum foil. Ben had the loaded, scalloped potatoes; Rey had the creamy cucumber salad, along with a tote bag hanging from the crease in her elbow. Ani had been tasked with carrying the towels, and she had already managed to drop them before they even made it into the house. So, instead of being neatly folded, they were now wadded up in her arms.

“Are you gonna swim with me, Daddy?” She peered up at Ben.

“I will if you promise to eat something besides mashed potatoes,” He answered, taking a page out of Rey’s book on parental blackmailing.

Rey pointedly hid her grin as Ani crinkled her nose. “What do I hav’ta eat?”

“I don’t know… Something green.” Ben cocked his brow, doing his best to look stern. “Peas. Broccoli. Lettuce. Take your pick.”

Ani scrunched her face into a frown as they passed through the dining room and into the kitchen, but other than an obvious grimace, she didn’t put up a fuss. Which was a good thing, because if she _did_ fuss _,_ then Ben would’ve caved in. And since he and Rey had both agreed to try a little harder at getting Ani to broaden her palette — he had to quit being such a pushover.

As the three of them entered the kitchen, Maz and Jannah were maneuvering around each other like a pair of energetic contestants on an episode of _MasterChef_ , chopping vegetables, patting out hamburgers, and taking turns stirring the sausage dip on the stove. Jannah’s girlfriend, Tallie, was over by the sink, filling two, glass dispensers with fresh, homemade lemonade and scooping out ice with a small, stainless steel shovel.

“There’s my sweet girl,” Maz cooed as Ani plodded towards her. “Happy Memorial Day, honey.”

“Happy Memorial Day!”

“Did you bring your swimsuit?”

“Yeah. It’s under my dress.” Ani told her as she leaned in for a hug, mashing the towels between them. “Do you have something green?”

“Something green?”

“Daddy says he’ll swim with me if I eat something green.”

“Ah,” Maz tilted her head back, nodding. “I think we can handle that. Why don’t you run tell Uncle Chewie that the burgers are almost ready, and I’ll see if I can find you something green?”

“Okay.” Ani bolted towards the door, but then stopped and ran back, handing Rey the towels before taking off again. “UNCLE CHEWIE!”

Maz gave Ben a look, her lips treading on a smirk.

“What?” He shrugged. “It was Rey’s idea.”

“Oh, don’t you even—” Rey swung her head around, trying to seem peeved. “I said to _encourage_ her. Not blackmail her.”

“Is there a difference?” Ben shot her a playful grin before taking the towels and tucking them under his arm. Then, with a wink, he sauntered on passed her and out the same door that Ani had bolted through, causing Rey to roll her eyes and trail along behind him.

The two of them had decided, before they ever left the house, that they weren’t going to stay very long.

Just enough to eat and let Ani swim.

Because with it being Memorial Day weekend, Rey had spent the last several days working overtime at the shop, and at this point, she was running on fumes. Not to mention she and Ben were on the final season of _Game of Thrones,_ with only three episodes left, and the only thing that Rey wanted, aside from a good ten hours of sleep, was to get back home, curl up on the couch, and find out if she had won the little wager that they had going.

They made a bet on who would end up on the Iron Throne.

Ben went with Jon Snow, and had a side bet on Lord Varys.

Rey was convinced that it would be Tyrion.

Neither of them were right, but they didn’t know that yet.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite nephew.” Lando called from the grill. His arms spread wide. A pair of tongs in his hand.

Ben scoffed as he walked over to a table of food, then sat his casserole dish next to about thirteen others. “I’m your _only_ nephew.” 

“Yeah, well… All the more reason for you to be my favorite.” Lando grinned before carefully pivoting towards Rey. “And I see you’ve brought an angel with you. My, my, my. You look _absolutely_ beautiful.” He held out his hand, smiling even wider once she took it. Then, he leaned down, kissing her knuckles. “You truly belong among the clouds.”

“I see you’re still as smooth as ever.” Rey teased.

He winked, then let go. “Like butter.”

“More like grease,” Han chimed in as he walked over to Ben, handing him a cold beer and mumbling _old fool_ under his breath. “Watch out, kid. He’ll steal her right out from under you.”

Ben untwisted the cap with a hiss, then raised his brow.“No, he won’t.”

He slowly lifted the bottle to his lips, hiding his smirk behind the rim, while Rey huffed and tried to pretend like the sudden warmth in her cheeks was from the sun, and not from the way that he was looking at her.

All soft and tender, yet wholly possessive.

“And what makes you so sure that he won’t?” She challenged him, lifting her chin. “Lando’s pretty charming.”

His brows rose, making his forehead crease and his eyes widen, then with a smug grin that said ‘ _I’ll show you charming_ ,’ Ben eased his way towards her. Sneakers sinking into the grass. Arms hanging at his sides.

Once they were standing toe to toe, Rey tilted her head back, staring up at him in feigned defiance while he simply cocked his head to the side, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You want to know how I know?” He asked her in a low hum, his eyes boring into hers, waiting for an answer. Then once she nodded, swallowing hard, he brought his free hand up to her temples, moving her hair out of her face. “Because I love you.” He leaned in, slowly grazing his lips over hers and releasing them with a wet pop. “I love everything about you.” He said as he kissed her again, teasing her seam with his tongue before pulling back and making her chase his mouth. “And Hell will fucking _freeze_ before I lose you again.”

It was reflexive — the way her breath caught in her lungs and her hands immediately reached for him. “Oh, it will, will it?” She said as she gripped the side of his shirt, right below his ribs, and tried to focus on anything other than his hand on her neck, or the way his thumb drew slow circles beneath her chin.

“All nine layers.” He whispered. “Frozen solid.”

“Yeah?” She gulped, then exhaled. “Well, maybe _winter is coming._ ”

She could feel him try to fight back a laugh, the muscles in his sides giving a slight shake, but it wasn’t long before he lost it. His head dipping down as he chuckled into her hair.

Nothing like a good _Game of Thrones_ reference to take him down a few pegs.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” She smiled as his arms came up and circled around her.

“Mhm.” He agreed, kissing the top of her head. “But not as much as I’ll like winning. What was our wager again?”

Her head shot up, brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Winner gets whatever they want, right? I’m thinking a massage.” He winced, rolling his shoulders. “I’m feeling a little tense.”

“Well then, you better slap on some IcyHot.”

“Jon is a Targaryen, sweetheart. The throne is rightfully his.”

“Jon doesn’t even _want_ the throne!” Rey stepped back, then snatched his beer out of his hand, before pointing a finger at him. “And what _idiot_ bets on Lord Varys?”

“Tyrion isn’t even in the running!”

“HE’S THE HAND OF THE QUEEN, BEN! He’s literally next in line!”

“TO A THRONE THAT BELONGS TO JON!”

“Oh my God. I’m going to go find Rose before I end up breaking this over your thick head.” She held up the bottle, showing him the beer, before storming off towards the house.

“YOU KNOW NOTHING, REY ANDOR.” She heard him call after her, and even though that particular quote would’ve normally made her laugh, right now it just made her want to punch him. But since she was in love with the fool, hurting him would hurt her too, so instead, she shot back, “CHAOS IS A LADDER, BEN,” and then kept walking.

She didn’t know where she was headed at first, given how her melodramatic exit wasn’t exactly planned. But then she spotted Rose through the glass wall of Lando’s sunroom slash pool house — lying on a lounge chair, legs stretched out, and wearing a two-piece bathing suit that she had bought from an online, Facebook boutique, even though Rey had told her that she could get one cheaper at Target.

Getting to her was a bit of a challenge, because Rey couldn’t take five steps before someone was asking her how she was doing, or if she had seen the latest cover of whatever magazine they’d seen at the grocery store check-out line. And Rey politely answered each of them. “ _I’m just fine. How are the boys? No, I don’t read any of that. Ben and I are fine. Thank you. Ani will be starting school in August. I know. They grow up fast, don’t they?_ ” She knew that she would be slammed with questions, considering how gossip was the proverbial heartbeat in every small-town in America. But she really didn’t want to know what the tabloids were saying about her this week.

So, she kept working her way towards Rose, smiling and waving and trying to be friendly.

“Well, well, well. Don’t you look _ravishing._ ” Rose wagged her brows as Rey plopped down on the chair next to her. “Is that new?”

Rey glanced down, straightening the hem of a white, beach coverup and trying to pull it down over her thighs. “No, I’ve just never worn it.”

“It looks good on you,” Rose smiled. “Shows off your curves.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Well, I mean, you can’t really see anything. But it’s thin, so, you know, I can see a little. Just your shape.”

“My shape?”

“Rey, you look beautiful.” Rose sighed, knowing that her friend was about five seconds from running back into the house and finding one of Lando’s capes. “You have nothing to be shy about. Besides, Benny Boy loves your curves.”

She let out a huff, then scooted back into her lounge chair, getting comfortable. “He hasn’t even seen them.”

“What do you mean he — Wait. Hold on.” Rose sat up quickly. Her hand stretched out to stop her from saying anything else. “You mean to tell me that you two haven’t fucked?”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Rey whispered through her teeth, then glanced around the room, finding at least twenty people that she definitely didn’t want to hear them. “No, we haven’t.”

“I thought you were ready?”

“I _am_ ready. I’m just waiting for him to, you know, _initiate it_.”

“You’re waiting for _Ben_ to initiate it?” Rose thumbed over her shoulder in the general direction she figured he’d be in before letting out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, well… That’s never going to happen.”

“What do you mean that’s never going to happen?”

“I mean it’s never going to happen.” Rose shrugged, then sunk back down into her seat, crossing her legs at the ankle. “You told the guy that you wanted to take it slow. So, he’s taking it slow."

“I didn’t mean _this_ slow!” Rey shot back in an angry whisper. Her brows knitted.

Rose cocked her head, smirking. “Well, then maybe you should’ve clarified.”

“I’ve tried to,” Rey twisted her mouth thoughtfully, her voice so quiet that it was barely even audible. “But I can’t just _ask him_ to have sex with me. That’s awkward. So, I’ve been trying to drop hints.”

“Oooh, you’ve been dropping some hints?” Rose turned on her side, propping her elbow on the back of the chair and resting her head in her hand. “What kind of hints are we talking about? You deep-throating popsicles again? Giving him a little foot action?”

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Absolutely not. Now, what have you been doing?”

“Just, you know, the basics.” Rey shrugged as her fingers fiddled with the fabric of her coverup. “Kissing him. Touching him.”

“You grabbed his dick and he didn’t take that as a hint?”

“What? No, just like, his stomach, or his chest.”

“You gotta grab his dick.”

“I’m not grabbing his _dick_ , Rose.”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

“I think I’ve got it covered.” Rey scoffed, knowing that she absolutely did not have it covered. “But thanks.”

“Fine. Suit yourself,” Rose shrugged. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Rey brought the bottle of beer to her lips, guzzling down two, hard gulps and wiping the excess off of her chin with a swipe of her hand. “I just — I want to do it on my own. You know? I want to _be able_ to do it on my own.” She admitted as she stared down at her lap. Her fingernail picking at the wet label. “It’s just hard for me to feel confident when it comes to that. To sex. Or, _God,_ just being naked in front of him. It’s been five years, Rose. And I don’t look the same as I used to. My body doesn’t look the same.”

“So?” She grimaced. “Who cares?”

Rey swallowed hard, peering over at her. “I do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Rose shook her head, then shrugged. “Because your body is beautiful. Thighs, hips, ass, your itty bitty clit-y. Every bit of it is beautiful. And it deserves to be worshiped. And I mean fucking _worshiped._ ”

Rey pressed her palm against her forehead and sighed. “Please don’t say itty bitty clit-y when we’re in public.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m serious about you deserving to be worshiped. And I have every reason to believe that Benny Boy would drop to his fucking knees if you asked him to. So, ask him to. Or grab his dick. Either one works.”

Rey blew out an airy laugh through her nose, shaking her head and grinning. “You’re not right.”

Rose shot back a smirk, winking. “But I’m not wrong either.”

__________

Uncle Finn always put little hard pieces of bread in his macaroni and cheese.

He said that was how his Granny used to make it, so that’s how he makes it, and even though Ani would rather it just be noodles and cheese, she liked the way it crunched in her mouth when she chewed it.

“Good?” Finn peered down at her.

She nodded, a plastic fork gripped in her fist. “Yeap.”

“Not too salty?”

Ani shook her head, “Not too salty.”

They were in the backyard, sitting at a long, rectangular table covered with a red-checkered tablecloth. Uncle Finn was to her right. Uncle Poe was on her left. Mommy and Daddy were across from them, not really saying a whole lot.

Mommy talked every now and then, asking Uncle Finn if he’d seen the new Adam Sandler movie or how work was going. But Daddy hadn’t said a single word in ten whole minutes, and the only thing he’d said before that was “ _Yeah, it’s good”_ whenever Mommy asked him if he liked her cucumber salad. He didn’t look mad though. Just tired. But if he was tired, then he might want to go home early, and he had promised her that they would swim in Uncle Lando’s pool.

“Daddy?” She sat up straight, trying to see over the table.

Ben looked up, swallowing a big piece of smoked brisket, then wiped his fingers on a napkin. “What, baby?”

“Are you still gonna swim with me?”

He nodded. His lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m still going to swim with you.”

She had tried a bite of Aunt Maz’s broccoli casserole, which meant that she had kept up with her end of the bargain. Granted, she didn’t _like_ the broccoli casserole. But Daddy never said she had to like it. He just said she had to eat it. Now all she had to do was wait for him to finish devouring a whole cow, then they could go play Marco Polo.

“You have to see _Uncut Gems_ ,” Mommy told Uncle Finn. “Ben and I watched it on Netflix the other night, and I swear I don’t see how Adam Sandler didn’t win an Oscar.”

“We’ve been watching — What’s that show?” Finn glanced over at Poe. “Shit Creek?”

Ani’s eyes widened, then with a sharp breath, she slapped her hands over her ears, causing Ben and Rey to both chuckle.

“Schitt’s Creek.” Poe corrected. “God, it’s so good. It’s about this rich family losing all of their money, then having to move to this small-town that they’d bought as a joke.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Finn shook his head, grinning as he scooped up a bite of potato salad. “But it’s hilarious. You’d like it.”

“Is that the one with the dad from _American Pie_?” Ben spoke up, knowing that it would make Rey happy if he at least _tried_ to get along with the Dameron’s.

He was wasting his breath though.

Because as soon as his voice made it across the table, Poe bristled, answering him with a stiff “ _Yeah”_ before stabbing his fork into a heap of baked beans. There was awkward silence after that. One that was just as irritating as it was uncomfortable. So, Ben stood up with a scoff, asking Rey if she was done eating, then when she nodded, he took both of their plates, walked over to the trashcan, and tossed them onto a stack of others.

Rey didn’t have to turn around to know that he wasn’t coming back, but she glanced over her shoulder anyway, watching Ben cross the lawn towards Han, Chewie, Lando, and Sheriff Fett. The four of them were already in a huddle near the grill, drinking beer and no doubt waiting for the right time to sneak upstairs and start a game of Texas Hold’em.

“Mommy, I’m done eating.” Ani announced with melted cheddar cheese smeared on the corner of her mouth. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, but wipe your face first.”

She reached over the table, snatching one of Uncle Finn’s napkins, and then rubbed her mouth, before glancing up at him. “Good?”

Finn let out a quiet laugh, nodding. “Yeap.”

Rey’s eyes followed Ani as she hopped down from the bench and took off towards Ben. Once she reached him, he immediately glanced down, smiling as her fingers gripped onto the hem of his swim trunks. She was saying something to him, and even though Rey couldn’t make out what it was, she had a feeling Ani wanted him to pick her up — because that was the next thing he did. His body bending over, hauling her up by the armpits. His hand at her back, holding her to his chest, with the other arm tucked behind her knees.

“I think she’s becoming a Daddy’s girl.” Rose smirked from beside Rey.

Rey huffed out a laugh, “You have _no_ idea. I don’t even exist if Ben’s in the room.” She told her jokingly. “But if she’s sick, or doesn’t feel good, _then_ she wants Mommy.”

“Doesn’t that bother you though?” Poe chimed in. His eyes narrowed to slits. “How he just comes back home and acts like he never left? Like he didn’t walk out on you?”

“Poe.” Rose warned.

“No, I’m done biting my tongue. The guy is a piece of shit.” He countered, getting angry. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Never has. And yet, you, and you, and everyone else just welcomes him back with open arms like he didn’t piss on all of us.”

“Honey,” Finn reached over putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now’s not the time.”

“It’s never the time.” Poe barked under his breath before standing up and jerking his plate up off of the table. “He’s going to walk out on you.” He stared down at Rey. “The second this family man bullshit wears off, he’ll be gone. Watch and see.”

Rey felt her chest tighten. Her face growing pale. Eyes wet. She understood why Poe was so resentful towards Ben, so mistrusting, and she didn’t blame him for being angry. But being able to understand where he was coming from didn’t make his words hurt any less.

“Finn?” Rey peered over at him, brows downturned, hoping that maybe he would give her some kind of reassurance.

“I’m sorry, Peanut.” Finn frowned. “But I don’t trust him either. Not with you and Ani.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, bobbing her head and standing to her feet. She reached over and picked up Ani’s plate and half-empty cup of grape juice, then gave each of them one last look, including Rose, and then walked off towards the trashcan. Rose was right behind her, scrambling to catch up and offering the reassurance that Finn couldn’t seem to give her. But that only made her eyes start to water, and the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of half of Chandrila, so she quickly shook her head, willing Rose to just leave it alone.

But that’s when her eyes met Ben’s — his expression immediately shifting from calm to curious.

He knew that she was upset just by the look on her face, and since now _really_ wasn’t the time, she walked off in the other direction, heading for the pool house.

She had left her tote bag by the lounge chairs. Mostly because she didn’t want to carry it around. Partly because it would keep her and Rose from losing their spot while they were eating. But when she plopped down on the crook of the seat, and started unzipping the bag, Ben was making his way over to her. Still carrying Ani.

“You okay?” He asked her quietly. His eyes so soft that it made her tears well all over again. _Damn him_.

“Are you guys ready to swim?” She forced a smile before rummaging through the tote bag. “I was just getting out your goggles.”

Ben put Ani on the ground, and then sat on the chair directly across from Rey.

He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he sensed that she didn’t want him to. Not right now at least. Which meant that it was something she didn’t want to say in front of Ani. And _that_ usually meant that it was about him.

“Do you want me to put on the strap?” He asked, rubbing his hand along his jawline, stopping at his chin.

Rey glanced over at him, nodding as she tossed him the unopened case, and then once he caught it and tore into the plastic, Rey turned to Ani. “What are the rules?”

“No running.”

“And…”

“No deep end.”

“That’s right. No going to the deep end. What else?”

“When you say I have to get out, I have to get out.”

Rey helped Ani out of her shoes, her dress, and then checked the halter on her bathing suit, making sure that it was secure enough to say tied around her neck. She had on a cute, little one-piece that was meant to make her look like a mermaid. The top half a bright, sea foam green while the bottom looked like purple scales. And with it snug, but not too tight, she was almost ready to go.

Just as soon as Ben finished attaching the strap on her goggles.

He had the first side done. His hands making the whole thing look like it was small enough to fit a doll. But he just couldn’t seem to get the other one.

“Daddy, will you hurry up?” Ani plodded over to him. Her feet tapping on smooth concrete. “We’re burning daylight.”

Rey, despite the ache in her chest, couldn’t help but snicker.

“Burning daylight, huh?” Ben arched his brow and smirked as he stared down at his fingers. She had been spending too much time with his father. “There it goes.”

Ani hooked her arms around one of his, laying her head on his shoulder and watching him lace the strap through the loop, then pull it tight.

“Alright, let’s see if it fits.” He turned to her, waiting for her to stand up straight so that he could put them over her head. “Is that too tight?”

She shook her head no, then adjusted them over her eyes until it was comfortable. “Can we swim now?”

He was beginning to realize that ninety percent of parenting was just answering the same questions over and over again.

“Yeah, we can swim now.”

Once she had the green-light, she bolted. But Rey was quick to remind her of rule number one, so she slowed down — nearly bumping into Rose on her way to the shallow end.

“Someone’s excited,” Rose laughed before shooing Ben out of her seat.

She had made a pitstop at the dessert table, swiping a handful of chocolate chip cookies for herself and a giant snickerdoodle for Rey.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” Ben ignored Tico and sat down on the edge of Rey’s chair, putting his hands on either side of her hips and letting her plop a piece of her cookie into his mouth.

“Just Poe.“ She shrugged, not willing to lie to him.

“He talking shit again?” He asked mid-chew. And when she nodded, he continued. “What he say this time?”

“That once this family man persona wears off — you’ll leave again.”

She was afraid to look up at him, afraid of what she might see if she did. But when Ben didn’t answer, or move, or even breathe, she couldn’t keep from peeking.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He was looking her dead in the eyes. His deep voice vibrating through his throat, sounding so certain and so serious that it made her whole body shiver. “And being a father to our six kids is never going to fucking wear off.”

 _Their six kids_.

She whimpered out a watery laugh, then surged forward and kissed him with enough force to knock the breath out of both of them. Her movements growing frantic and needy, with one hand on the underside of his jaw and the other holding onto a half-eaten cookie. She could taste it on his tongue, the cinnamon and the sugar, and she didn’t even care that some of the crumbs stuck to his teeth was getting into her mouth. She didn’t care about anything. Just him, and her, and the six kids that they didn’t even have yet.

“The one we _do_ have…” She whispered between breaths. “—is waiting for you.”

Not even a second later, as if Rey had some sort of sixth sense, they could hear Ani calling from the edge of the pool. Her hands holding onto the side as she asked if Daddy was ever going to get in.

“Go.” Rey pushed his chest lightly.

Ben smiled at her, all goofy and boyish with just enough excitement in his eyes to make her smile back at him, and then with a quiet laugh, he stood to his feet, reaching behind his back to tug his shirt over his head. He wadded it up and tossed it at her, causing the spicy scent of his cologne to waft over her and leave her a little lightheaded.

With him in all of his shirtless glory, Rey swallowed so hard that her ears popped — her eyes reflexively dragging up the length of him. Strong calves. Thick thighs. Hard stomach. Broad chest and shoulders. He ran his hand through his hair and kicked off his sneakers, then his socks, completely unaware that she was gawking at him. Then, when he was down to nothing but a pair of black swim trunks, and Rey’s mouth couldn’t get any drier, he walked over to the edge of the pool and dropped in next to Ani.

“You got a little—” Rose motioned to the corner of her mouth.

Rey swiped her hand across her face, thinking that she had food stuck to her cheek. “What is it?”

“Just a little drool.”

Rey froze, then rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

“Alexa, play _Nobody_ by Keith Sweat.”

A laugh tore through Rey’s throat before she could stop it. Partly because Rose was an utter loon. But mostly because that song was now stuck in her head. And her only consolation, if it could even be considered a consolation, was that it was apparently stuck in Rose’s head too. Because she was humming, and rolling her body, and snapping her fingers to a beat that wasn’t even playing.

“ _I wanna tease you.”_

 _“_ Oh my God. _”_

 _“I wanna please you…_ ” Rose continued singing entirely off-key. Eyes closed. Face scrunched. “ _I wanna show you, baby, that I need you.”_

Rey buried her face in her hand, trying to stop laughing before someone asked her what was so funny.

Because she definitely wasn’t going to tell them.

Not in this lifetime at least.

“ _I want your body, 'til the very last drop. I want you to holla, when you want me to stop.”_

“Stop it before someone hears you!”

“My favorite part is when Athena Cage comes in and is all like, “ _I promise to give it to you just the way you like.”_ I mean, what a fucking queen.”

“I worry about you. I really do.”

“ _Nobahhdee_.” Rose lifted her chin, singing to the ceiling.

Rey shook her head, then glanced towards the pool, watching Ben hoist Ani up out of the water, then toss her like a rag doll.

At first she worried that they might be playing too rough.

Because Ani was small and Ben was definitely _not._

Yet every time her little body went sailing through the air, then sunk deep into the water, she would pop right back up, paddle over to him, and tell him to do it again, and again, and again.

So Rey’s worry quickly turned into warmth.

And right when she found herself smiling, that was when Ben looked over at her. His hair wet and stuck to his forehead. All of his tattoos drenched and shining, making his skin look like it was made of wax. It didn’t take but a second for him to smile back at her, and when he did, it was as if all of the butterflies in her stomach suddenly scattered, and the only thing that she could do was curl her arms around her middle and hope that the little guys would settle back down.

“It looks good on you,” Rose spoke up, sounding serious for once.

Rey glanced over at her. “What does?”

“Being in love,” she answered with a grin. “Being happy.”

“It looks good on you too.”

“Ha.” Rose threw her head back. “I’m not in love. _You_ are in love. That’s love. The way you look at him. I've never looked at _anyone_ like that. Ever.”

"Uh huh. If you say so..” Rey smirked before turning her attention back to Ben.

He was leaning down to Ani, telling her something that she evidently agreed to. But before Rey could guess what it could’ve been, they were both paddling towards her. Which felt a little bit like deja vu. Giving her flashbacks to her backyard, and a rainbow-shaped water sprinkler, and a set of drenched clothes that she didn’t ask for, but got anyway.

“Oh no.” She shook her head once they reached the edge of the pool. “Not this time.”

They were leaning on the side, arms crossed on top of each other, and trying to use that Solo charm to get her to give in. Their wet lashes fluttering; their bottom lips slightly rolled into a pout.

“No.” Rey said with as much finality as she could muster under the circumstances. “I’m not getting in.”

“But you wore your bathing suit.” Ani frowned.

“That was just in case I wanted to. But I’m fine right here.”

Ben arched his brow. “Don’t make me come get you.”

“Yeah, don’t make Daddy come get you.” Rose whispered out of the corner of her mouth, causing Rey to shoot her a glare.

“You two go have fun.” Rey tried again. “I’m going to talk to Aunt Rose.”

“Aunt Rose is done talking.” The traitor shrugged. “Besides, Armie is almost here.”

Rey didn’t know what Hux showing up fashionably late had to do with her getting in the pool, but she was _this_ close to tipping Rose’s chair over.

“Baby, I don’t want to throw you in.” Ben called out, causing Rey’s head to spin back around. “But you know I will.”

Oh, he definitely would.

And it wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to get in.

She just didn’t want to take her cover-up off.

Or for him to see all of the things that she was trying to hide underneath it.

And since she couldn’t exactly voice that, she tried to stand her ground and hope that they would eventually give up.

But Ben Solo didn’t give up.

And apparently neither did the miniature version of him.

“The water isn’t cold, Mommy.” Ani assured her, as if that was her concern. “And you don’t even have to get your hair wet.”

Rey could feel her nerves start to bubble, and every other excuse that she tried to come up with seemed to get lodged in her throat. But when Ben started to lift himself up on the edge of the pool, water gliding down his chest in torrents, she quickly leapt to her feet. Stopping him.

“Okay! Fine.” She gulped as he sunk back down. “I’ll get in.”

“Ugh, it’s about time.” Ani sighed, then laid back and started floating on top of the water. Her body bobbing up and down like a buoy.

While their little one drifted deeper into the pool, Ben stayed at the edge. His eyes never leaving Rey’s as she reached down to the hem of her coverup. Fingers nervously fiddling with the hem. If she had asked him to turn around, she knew that he would have. But there was something in the way that he was looking at her that made her lift the fabric up her thighs, then over the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, her neck.

She got it over her head just in time to watch him draw his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down so hard that it was a wonder he didn’t break the skin.

Then, he smiled at her.

Not the cocky, self-assured smile of a man that had gotten what he wanted. It was one that was toothless, and dimpled, and somewhat dazed. His shoulders rising through a slow breath, then falling in a sigh.

It didn’t make her insecurities suddenly vanish, or make her any less aware of her stretch marks, or the fat between her thighs, or the wideness of her hips, or how her blue and white striped bathing suit seemed to squeeze her jiggly bits like an uncomfortable, Victorian corset.

But it _did_ make her feel powerful.

“Come here,” he jutted his chin, motioning her over.

It was more of a plea than a command, but she still obeyed it.

Leaving her nerves with Rose and walking over to the pool.

When she reached the edge, Ben backed up, letting her sit down first, her feet dipping into the water, testing the temperature, then once she was settled, he inched closer. Taking his time. So unhurried. So controlled. So patient. Savoring the sight of her. How her hair framed her face when she looked down at him. Or the way her pink lips parted just enough to let the air in and out.

His hands came up to her knees, wet and warm and roughly calloused, then slid up the width of her thighs, relishing in the softness of her skin, the pliant give of the muscle. She drew in a sharp breath when he opened her legs and moved forward to stand between them, but even with her in his clutches, he still didn’t rush it. He kept the pace slow, being so gentle with her, flattening his hands along the rounded curve of her hips, then up to her waist.

He had touched her plenty of times in the last couple of months. Some of it entirely chaste and meant for nothing beyond comfort. Other times a little more urgent and heady. But this, right now, felt deeper, more meaningful. Like a potter getting his first feel of wet clay and knowing that he had found his calling.

“I love you,” Ben whispered — his throat bobbing through a swallow.

Before she could say it back, he lifted her up off the side of the pool. How he was strong enough to do that would never cease to amaze her. But he did. He lifted her up like she was weightless, holding her high above him before slowly bringing her down into the water. Their eyes locked; their breaths shallow. She reached out to him, taking his head in her hands while his arms wrapped around her waist, and then with their faces inches apart, she eased forward, brushing her lips against his with the same gentleness that he had shown her.

This time he tasted like chlorine. But again, she didn’t —

“CANNONBALL!”

An unexpected yet familiar voice called out not even three feet away, leaving them no time to brace themselves before a violent wave was knocking into them, matting Rey’s hair to her face and causing her to draw in a sharp gasp.

“ARMITAGE!” She squealed. Her hands resting on Ben’s shoulders as her head spun around, watching Hux pop up out of the water.

“What?” He shrugged. “I gave you a warning!”

Rose was cackling from the lounge chair.

No doubt being the one that had put him up to it.

“That was _not_ a warning.” Rey rolled her eyes as Ben brushed her hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “Anakin Sofia! What was rule number two?”

“This isn’t even deep, Mommy!” Ani called back mid dog-paddle. “Hey, Uncle Hugs!”

“Hey, kiddo.”

“It’s deep enough. Now, back to the other end.” Rey pointed to her left. “Quit acting like your father.” She added quiet enough for only Ben to hear it.

“Like her father, huh?” His arms squeezed her tighter, walking them backwards and away from the edge.

“Exactly like her father.”

“Pft. More like her mother.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rey raised her brow, daring him to elaborate. Her legs locked around his waist. Head cocked. Eyeing him. “And how so?”

This was a trap.

Ben knew it was a trap.

But luckily for him, eluding the doghouse was one of his many talents.

“She’s pretty, for one. So pretty.”

“Uh huh. And?"

“And smart. The smartest.”

The corner of her lips twitched, wanting to smile. “Go on.”

“And I would do anything to make her happy.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

—————

Okay, maybe not _anything._

“But I’m not even tired, Daddy.” Ani yawned as he tucked her into bed. “Why can’t I watch the dragon show with you and Mommy?”

“Because it’s not just about dragons, baby.” He told her softly. His hand resting on her forehead, moving her hair out of her face. “It’s got people fighting, and saying mean things, and hurting each other.”

“So does _Gunsmoke_ , but Poppy still lets me watch it.”

Ben twisted his mouth around, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “The dragon show isn’t like _Gunsmoke,_ sweetheart. The people on it are much, much meaner. But I tell you what, if you’ll go to sleep and get some rest, then tomorrow, we’ll watch Tangled.”

“We will?”

“I promise, we will.”

“Three times?”

Ben nodded. “Sure, three times."

“And we’ll get ice cream?”

She really drove a hard bargain.

“And we’ll get ice cream.”

“With sprinkles?”

“As many as you want.” He held up his pinky and waited for her to take it, then when she did, and they shook on it, he leaned down, kissing her cheek, her nose, then her forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

“I love you.”

She tossed a little, getting comfortable. But once she got settled, she let out another yawn. “I love you too, Daddy.”

“Light on or off?”

“On.”

He adjusted the dimmer on the nightlight, leaving just enough of a glow so that she wouldn’t be in the dark. Then, he shut the door behind him, made his way through the hall, and back down the stairs.

Rey was sitting on the couch, wearing a pair of short, flannel bottoms and one of his t-shirts. _Game of Thrones_ was already pulled up on the TV and a giant bowl of popcorn was in her lap. She hadn’t said much since they’d gotten back to the house. Nothing other than a few hurried sentences. Like, “ _No, Ben, I don’t have a fever_!” after he noticed that her face looked flushed. Or, “ _I’m gonna go take a shower_!” whenever he tried to kiss her in the kitchen. He could tell that she was jumpy though, and a little skittish, and oddly high-strung. And he didn’t know if it was from all the sugar that she’d eaten, or if she was just anxious to finish the show, or if she was worried about losing the bet and having to give him a massage... but he knew that something was off.

He plopped down beside her, picking the remote up from the coffee table, then fell back into the cushions. His long legs spread out and falling open; his arm lying across his middle while the other reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in her lap.

As soon as he sat down, she scooted closer. So close that she was practically burrowing into him, invading his space. Which was fine. His space was her space. Plus, she smelled so good, and her body was so warm — the steam from her shower still lingering on her skin. And since a crowbar couldn’t fit between them, he was able to mark off “ _Mad at Me”_ from the list of things that might be bothering her.

“You ready to lose?” Ben tilted his head back, smirking up at her as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Rey rolled her eyes, chewing loudly. “Just press play.”

It had taken a special kind of strength to keep from looking over at him. Especially when he had the gall to wear those pants again. Those black, Adidas joggers that he seemed to own in abundance. The ones that did nothing to hide the completely flaccid bulge between his legs. Yeah — _those_ pants. And Rey knew that if she looked over at him, even just a quick side glance, then she was going to have a panic attack. Not might. Not maybe. She was going to panic. And of all the things that she wanted to do tonight, that wasn’t one of them.

So, she forced her eyes to stare straight ahead, focusing on the HBO previews, the way the light from the TV made the living room turn this gaudy shade of blue, or how buttery the popcorn was. And it was working, at first. She was doing good. So good. But then Ben shifted his hips, just trying to get comfortable, and she couldn’t help it. She looked. Then, she didn’t look. Her head practically snapping back to the screen.

“You alright?” She heard him ask.

Her answer came in quick succession. “Yeap. Fine. Why?”

“Because you’re stiff.”

“Oh,” She swallowed the lump in her throat, drawing in a deep breath.

There was a nervous energy vibrating just beneath her skin, moving up her fingers, her arms, her chest, tingling from her belly all the way down to the bottom of her feet. But despite the panic still dawdling around in the back of her mind, she was honestly and truly ready.

She wanted this.

She wanted _him_.

She just needed him to make the first move.

“I guess I just,” she licked her lips, took another deep breath, then tried to summon her inner Rose. “I guess I just need — _loosened up first._ ”

Her greasy fingers, that she didn’t even realize were greasy until now, slowly glided across his right shoulder, then down his bicep, making his muscles twitch.

The opening of the show was playing quietly through the surround sound, the volume low enough that it wouldn’t rattle the windows or wake up Ani, who probably wasn’t even asleep yet. And the light from the screen was shining across Ben’s face, giving Rey a clear view of his side profile, and more importantly, his expression.

Which wasn’t, at all, what she expected.

Was he even paying attention?

“I think there’s a bottle of Jack in the cabinet.” He said as he shoved a whole handful of popcorn into his mouth. “You want me to get you some?”

“What? No, I — That’s not—”

“Or, I mean, we don’t have to watch it tonight.” He looked over at her. His jaw working as he chewed. “If you’re tired, we can finish it some other time.”

“No, I want to watch it.” She answered in a rush — although getting him in the bed might not have been a bad idea? At least the setting would’ve been a little more practical. “I’m just thinking about what I want whenever I win.”

“Oh yeah?” He shot her a lopsided grin. “And what’s that?”

Sex.

With you.

Sex with you.

“I don’t know yet,” she told him instead. Her face feeling a bit feverish. “That’s why I’m thinking about it.”

Good one, Rey.

Smooth.

“Yeah, well, don’t think too hard, sweetheart.” He winked. “I’m getting that massage.”

Rey furrowed her brows, then turned back to the TV.

She’d show him a massage.

_How To Seduce Ben Solo While Watching Game of Thrones: Take Two_

She waited until the first of three episodes was finished before she reached down into the nearly-empty bowl of popcorn, picking up a single piece from the pile and slowly bringing it to her mouth.

She had spent the last twenty minutes working this out in her head: what she should do, what she should say, best and worst case scenarios on how it would go. But in her head, when she lifted the popcorn up to her mouth, he was already looking at her. And right now he wasn’t even _kind of_ looking at her.

If it was, you know, _a popsicle_ , then she wouldn’t have been able to peel his eyes away from her. But the two of them had been snacking on the same mountain of popcorn for the past hour. Shoveling it into their mouths by the handfuls like a couple of chipmunks gathering acorns for the winter. And since popcorn wasn’t exactly shaped like a dick, Ben didn’t even notice that she was trying to seduce him.

He just kept droning on and on about how Jon Snow’s true parentage wasn’t a secret anymore, and that he would usurp power from Daenerys Targaryen, then claim his right to the Iron Throne. Blah blah blah.

And Rey wouldn’t lie. Ben was cute whenever he was being all analytical. But right now, as much as she loved the sound of voice, she would much rather their topic of discussion be something a little more stimulating than a five minute monologue about the complex hierarchy of House Targaryen.

Which meant that she had to get crafty.

So, if sight wouldn’t do the trick, then maybe sound would.

“Mmm,” she bit out a low moan. _It ain’t much, but it’s honest work._ “This tastes so good.”

She lightly sucked the butter off of the pad of her thumb, careful with her movements, really dragging it out and trying to make it last. And when he finally shut up long enough to look over, then saw what she was doing, Rey popped her thumb out of her mouth.

“Wh—” His eyes danced from her fingers to her lips. “What?”

“The popcorn.” She told him, making a point to touch her lips. Her nail gently dragging along the seam. “It might be the best I’ve ever had.”

His gulp wasn’t just visible. It was audible. And she would’ve sworn that she finally had him. Right then. Right there. But then his brows furrowed. “It’s the, uh—” He swallowed again, almost choking. “It’s the same one we had last night.”

Oh.

Right.

“Well, it _sure is good_.” Rey’s voice rose a little too high, coming out in an awkward squeak. She reached down into the bowl, grabbing at least ten of them, and then rammed them all into her mouth.

“I got it on sale at Lando’s.” Ben gave her a boyish smile, looking like a puppy bringing a chew toy to its master, trying to please her. “The whole box was like ninety-nine cents.”

He was giving her a ‘ _Does that make you happy_?’ look.

And, yes, it made her happy.

Very few people loved a good bargain more than Rey.

But it would make her even happier if he would lay her down and make sweet, sweet tender love to her, right here, on this three-hundred and ninety-nine dollar sectional that she’d snatched up during an online Black Friday sales event.

She knew that she should just tell him what she wanted, that she should come right out and say it. She knew that. But she couldn’t. Not when her self-esteem was this fragile, little thing. Then, there was the possibility of Ben rejecting her that nearly sent her into a frenzy. She wouldn’t be able to handle rejection. Not from him. And _definitely_ not when it came to sex. Which was why she was bending over backwards trying to get him to make the first move. That way she would know, for certain, that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

But nothing was going according to plan. Not a single thing. Sitting this close to him wasn’t working. Sucking butter off of her fingers wasn’t working. Moaning like an idiot wasn’t working. And at this point, she was beginning to wonder if maybe Rose had been right. _God-forbid_ , but what if she really was right? What if not being more direct was what she was getting wrong?

She didn’t necessarily have to grab his dick. That whole idea just tasted too much like harassment. And sure, Rose was probably joking, but still. She wanted his permission.

“Rey?”

She guessed she could start at his thigh though, then slowly make her way up.

Or at his chest, then make her way down.

And, sure, it probably wasn’t what Boyz II Men had in mind whenever they sang _I’ll Make Love To You_ , but at least it would better than a surprise dick grab.

But what was she supposed to do after that?

She hadn’t even thought about the middle ground.

The thing that was supposed to happen between the thing.

Would he let her give him a blowjob?

“Rey?

She nearly jumped out of her skin, jerking her eyes up from his crotch to his face. “What?”

“I said, are you ready for the next one?”

She blinked once, then twice, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

_How To Seduce Ben Solo While Watching Game of Thrones: Take Three_

Ben had four sweet spots that were sure to light a fire under him, and for the most part, these sweet spots weren’t necessarily sexual in nature. So, if Rey played her cards right, then she’d be able to get him going without him realizing that she was _trying_ to get him going — if that made sense.

Anyway.

The first one was his neck. The front, the side, the nape. It really didn’t matter where, just as long as she went slow, taking her time, letting him feel it — the gentle drag of her lips, the hot swipe of her tongue. It was nearly a Mortal Kombat finisher for him. But since it would be a little awkward if she started kissing his neck without preamble, that one was out.

His back was the second. Which was probably why he had chosen, but wasn’t getting, a massage as his reward for, you know, the bet that he wasn’t going to win. That spot was irrelevant though, because she couldn’t even get to his back at the present moment… so it, too, was out.

The next, and arguably her favorite, was his ears. Those big, adorable ears. But, again, they weren’t exactly a starting point. So, even though she loved them, they were also out.

The last one, and the obvious winner, was his scalp. His hair too. But the scalp was where all of the magic happened. She had to be careful though, because if she conjured up _too much_ magic, she would end up putting him to sleep, and then all of this anxiety-driven effort would’ve been for nothing.

Luckily for her though, now that the popcorn was good and gone, her hands were free. And since she was already practically attached to his side, the only thing she had to do was shift her arm and start toying with one strand, then another, working towards the nape of his neck and killing two birds with one stone.

“Would you follow me into battle like that?” Rey asked him as they watched Daenerys Targaryen’s army march on King’s Landing. This, what she was doing right now, was a modified sleight of hand. Make him focus on her voice at first. Then, her fingers.

“Mhm.” He leaned his head into her touch. “But are you sure you’d want to be queen?”

“Probably not.” She lightly scraped her nails along his scalp, smiling at how soft his voice had gotten.

He arched his brow. “Would you want to be _my_ queen?”

She leaned in, moving his hair away from his ear, then placing a light kiss to the shell. “ _I’m_ _already your queen.”_ She whispered.

There was a rough groan at the base of his throat, one that was definitely not intentional, and she was pretty sure she heard him mumble _“fuck”_ under his breath. But when she felt his hand come up and rest on the inside of her knee, not moving, just resting, she was so startled that she jerked, causing him to quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” she gulped, then reached for his hand and put it back where it was. Only this time her fingers were laced behind his, trying to work up enough nerve to guide him lower. “Your hand feels good.”

“Mmm.” He murmured, licking his lips. “So does yours.”

“Yeah?” She grinned sweetly as his head rolled to the side. Their eyes meeting. Mouths inches apart. “I can tell."

He made a move to kiss her, but stopped, waiting, checking, almost like he was afraid that he was about to cross the very line that she had spent all night trying to erase. And it worried her at first, thinking that he might stop before he ever really started. But then she saw the exact moment when his restraint snapped, because his pupils dilated, and his chest heaved, and before she had time to tell him that it was okay, that she wanted this, his lips were on hers — hard and fast and desperate.

She immediately opened up to let him in, then brought her hand to rest on his neck while they slowly found a more languid rhythm. Their tongues circling, all wet and wanting. The hand on her knee _finally_ rising towards the round curve of her bottom —going _under_ her clothes instead of over for once.

“ _Fuck._ ”

She definitely heard him that time, loud and clear, and she couldn’t help but smile, considering he’d just found out that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

 _Thank you, Rose, for the suggestion_.

His hands began to get needier, rougher, like he had been starving for so long and was finally about to have his favorite meal. And she was just as eager to give it to him, wanting it so bad that she was practically vibrating. But something in him changed once he had her on her back, something that was so clear that it was almost tangible, as if all of a sudden, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Fuck, baby, you’re shaking.” He pulled away from her and stood to his feet in a panic. “I’m — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you into—”

“Ben, no, it’s fine.“

His head was shaking; his entire face completely blanched. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I would never —”

“Ben, please, just sit back down.” Rey said with a slight edge to her voice, breaking him out of his trance. “Please, sit down.”

He did, though reluctantly, and as soon as he was at her side, she rushed forward, trying to get closer, afraid that he might get up again. 

“You didn’t scare me,” she assured him, cupping his face in her hands and giving him no choice but to look at her. “I was shaking because I was nervous. Not because I felt like you were pressuring me.” She whispered, watching his eyes water. “I love you. And I _trust_ you. So, I know that you would never force me into doing something that I’m not ready for. That’s not what that was, sweetheart. I promise. I wanted it just as much as you did.”

She leaned in, kissing his wet cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too,” he swallowed hard. His eyes still glassy. “And I would rather slit my own throat than to ever hurt you again.”

“I like your throat the way it is,” she smiled sadly, tracing her fingers down his neck. “But it’s okay. We’re okay.” She promised as she grabbed her phone off of the coffee table. “I’m going to go make us some more popcorn. Why don’t you rewind the show so we can catch up on what we missed? Do you want some more water?”

He nodded. “Sure. Water’s good.”

On her way to the kitchen, with her nerves well-beyond shot, Rey pulled up the Inbox on her phone, going straight to her most recent message. She hadn’t checked it in hours, and there were at least thirty new ones from the same person, all sent at different intervals, with the last one, a tongue and a cat emoji, being received about six minutes ago.

She scrolled up to read the rest, despite already knowing what she was likely to find, and sure enough, it was just as she expected. Several water splash emojis. A couple of eggplants. A really long paragraph that was just the lyrics to Keith Sweat’s “ _Nobody_.”

“Ha Ha,” she whispered sarcastically as she put her phone on the counter just long enough to put the bag into the microwave before picking it back up.

She stared at the screen for several minutes, listening to the kernels pop in rapid succession, and then once her eyes started to water, she began to type, then delete, then type, then delete. She was so embarrassed, and disappointed, and angry at herself for not having the courage to walk back into the living room and just tell Ben the truth. That the reason she had spent the last two hours making an utter fool out of herself was because she wanted to have sex with him, but didn’t want to be the one to initiate it because she was afraid that he wouldn’t want her to.

But now that the mood had officially been murdered, the thought of doing that, telling him, made her so out of sorts that she felt dizzy.

So, she turned to the one person that would know what to do.

**Rose, I need your help.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Training Commences


	22. Beast of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Rose have a girl's night.
> 
> Ben and Hux get drunk.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter also spoils Game of Thrones. Skip the first section to avoid it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> I hope y'all are safe and healthy and enjoying 2021 so far.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Beast of Burden" by The Rolling Stones.

After Rey left the kitchen with a refilled bowl of popcorn and a bruised ego, she and Ben finished the last two episodes of _Game of Thrones —_ and that was it _._

She didn’t try anything else, or make any kind of move, or bring up what had happened. She just laid her head over on his shoulder, her arm tucked around his elbow, and then the two of them watched the rest of the show in relative silence.

Relative silence because, for the most part, they were so absorbed in what was happening that they weren’t really able to hold a conversation. And if or when they did speak, it was usually just to yell at the screen.

But, in their defense, the ending didn’t go the way that they thought it would.

At all.

Lord Varys died in the penultimate episode, burned alive by Drogon on Daenerys Targaryen’s orders, and since Lord Varys had been Ben’s favorite character from the jump, he was mad as Hell.

Not to mention one half of his bet was now charred to a crisp.

He still had Jon Snow though. And once the finale reached the halfway mark, and Jon had shanked Daenerys with a dagger, Ben was one-hundred and ten percent certain that Jon would be getting the Iron Throne — and he would be getting that massage.

That was, of course, until Jon was arrested for murder and then sent back to the Night’s Watch.

It all went downhill from there.

Not just for Ben, but for Rey too.

Because she had been pretty sure that with Jon and Daenerys both out of the picture, and Cersei Lannister buried under a pile of old bricks, then Tyrion would be the one to rule Westeros.

But no.

Absolutely not.

He didn't want it.

But Bran sure did.

Rey nearly threw their bowl of popcorn once she realized that _this_ was how it was going to end. That _this_ was what she and Ben had built themselves up for. And the only reason she didn’t throw it was because she would just have to sweep it right back up.

Always the practical one — even in a fit of rage.

Unlike Ben who nearly broke the power button on the TV remote whenever he tried to turn it off.

After it was over, they sat there for at least a minute, staring at a black screen and trying to process what they’d seen, how they felt about it, or if they’d ever be able to trust another show again. And eventually their anger bled into fury, then from there they spent the next hour and a half raging over that, quote, “ _bullshit excuse of an ending” —_ with Rey repeating “ _That can’t be how it ends. It can’t be._ ” over and over and over, while Ben gave a slightly more colorful “ _Bran the Broken? Bran the fucking Broken? WHAT THE FUCK?_ ”

Sex wasn’t even an afterthought at that point.

But they did end up in bed together.

Only instead of canoodling, they just laid there, side by side, facing each other, and continued venting their frustrations until they both fell asleep.

Rey was still going to seduce him though.

She just needed to lick her wounds first, and then draw up a new game plan. Something that wouldn’t hurl her too far out of her comfort zone, but wouldn’t keep her completely confined to it either.

Something like that took time though.

It took organization.

She couldn’t just wake up the next morning and say, “Hey, Ben. You know what would make us forget about Bran the Broken? — Sex.”

Rey just wasn’t assertive enough for that.

Which was how she ended up here, four days later, sitting on her couch in a pair of pink, penguin-printed pajamas and listening to her best friend slash sex guru give her a slightly drunken lecture on the art of seduction while they both sipped cheap glasses of ruby-red cabernet.

“The ticket is to arouse _all_ _five_ of his senses. Not just his sight.” Rose wiped a drop of wine off her chin with the back of her hand. “Don’t get me wrong, sight is important, because men are visual creatures. But if you,” She hiccuped. “If you really want to knock his socks off, then you’ll need to stimulate all of them.”

“All five senses,” Rey said as she brought her orange-stained fingers to her mouth, tossing back three or four Cheetos. “Got it.”

“Now, tell me how you plan to do that.” Rose reached into the bag.

She had the night off. Which, for a Friday, and for an ER resident, was a pretty rare phenomenon. So, she and Rey had decided to capitalize on this gift from the Heavens and use it for “training” purposes.

They even had the whole house to themselves, with Ani spending the weekend with The Dameron’s and Ben staying at Han’s.

And since “showtime” had been scheduled for tomorrow night, that meant Rose had a little less than twenty-four hours to whip Rey into sensual shape.

Which, of course, was going about as well as she expected.

Rey tilted her head back, talking with her mouth full. “You mean, how do I plan to stimulate his senses?”

“Yes. What’s your first move?”

She chewed slowly, giving herself time to come up with an answer, then with a swallow and another sip of wine, she had one. “When he gets here, I’m going to be wearing a robe.”

“Okay,” Rose waved her hand in a circle, encouraging her to go on. “And?”

“I ordered this, um, this nightie. This black, silk nightie.” She licked her lips. “It’s supposed to be delivered in the morning. But that’ll be under the robe.”

“Good. That’s good. Then what?”

“Then, I’m going to drop the robe.”

“No.” Rose shook her head. “You’re going to keep the robe on. At least for a little bit. Enough to make him wonder what you have on underneath it.”

“Fine. I’ll leave the robe on.”

“Now, what happens next?” Rose asked as she sucked powdered cheese off of her fingers. “He comes into the house, then you’re going to — ”

Rey scrunched her face, looking skeptical. “Ask him if he’s hungry?”

“Wrong. Try again.”

“Help him take off his coat?”

“Jesus, what is this? The 1950s? No, _I Love Lucy_ , you’re going look him dead in the eyes, slowly run your hand up his chest, and then tell him you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.”

“Oh.” Rey raised both brows, blinking.

“The idea is to plant that thought in his mind. The thought of you thinking of him. Why? Because then he’s going to be wondering _what_ you were thinking. And his first guess will be…”

“Sex?”

“Precisely.” Rose pointed at her. “Now, after you’ve planted that thought, you’re going to lead him wherever you want him. Don’t just let him follow you. Take his hand. Guide him. This is your show. Not his.”

“My show.”

“Your show.” Rose nodded. “You are in complete control of what happens.”

“What if I don’t want to be in complete control?” Rey frowned. “What if I want him to take the lead?”

“Again, _you_ decide what happens. If you want him to dominate you and call you his little slut, then be a good girl and let Daddy take what he wants.”

“What? God. No, that’s not — that’s not what I meant.”

“So, you _don’t_ want him to call you his good girl?” Rose smirked, then took a drink.

“I didn’t — I didn’t say that.” Rey answered before feeding herself enough Cheetos to make her cheeks puff out. “I’m open to things.”

“Uh huh.” Rose sat her wine glass between her legs, then peeled open a Snickers. “As I was saying, you get to decide where this goes. If you want him to take the lead, that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’d say Benny Boy will be more than willing to. But you'll have to be the one to initiate it. There’s just no way around it. You’re going to have to make the first move. And it’s going to have to be direct. Now, how you do that is entirely up to you. But the main thing is that you choose something that you’re comfortable with; otherwise, you’ll just end up stressing over it instead of enjoying it.”

“I’m going to stress over it regardless.” Rey huffed. “Especially when I already screwed this up once.”

“You didn’t screw anything up.” Rose assured her as she bit into her candy bar. “The only thing that you did wrong was expect Ben to do what you wantedhim to do — without actually telling him what that was. But it’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. You just need to communicate with him. And if you can’t do that with words, then do it with actions.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

Rose smiled as she chewed. Her eyes sparkling with mischief.

—————

“There has to be more to it than just fucking.” Ben was kicked back in a chair next to Han’s patio table, pretending like he wasn’t completely shitfaced while swirling a glass of bourbon around and around and around just so he could listen to the ice _clank_. “I mean, yeah, who doesn’t like to fuck? But if that’s all you and her have, then the shit’s never gonna work.”

“I know that.” Hux groaned as he threw his head back, staring up at the night sky, a few stars, and what he assumed was an airplane. “But she just—” He raised up again. His hair all wild and tousled from where he’d damn-near pulled it out. “She won’t give me any more than that! And I mean, I’ve tried to take her places. I ask her if she wants to go see a movie, or whatever shit people do on dates, but she always finds a reason not to go. Or she just wants to head back to her place.”

“And then you two end up fucking.”

“Yes!” Hux pointed at him with his hand spread wide. “And don’t get me wrong, I like fucking her. It’s not like I’m not into it. But I just—”

“Want more?”

“Exactly. I want more. I want the whole awkward dates thing, and the fucking goodnight kiss at the door, and all that shit I never thought I wanted. And I want it with _her,_ but she — it’s like she just keeps me inside this little box, you know? This little box of things that she likes, but is afraid of liking too much. And whenever things start to get serious, she just throws a fucking lid on it. Then, I don’t hear from her for a couple days. And I hate it! I hate being in that fucking box! I want to be the reason she doesn’t even _need_ the damn thing anymore.”

Ben brought his glass up to his lips, talking just shy of the rim. “Did you tell her that?” He asked, then took a drink.

“Of course not.” Hux furrowed his brows. “I don’t want her to think that I’m judging her or telling her what to do. Because I mean, if having a box is what makes her comfortable, then fuck! Have a box! Have several of them. Just don’t put me in one!”

“You have to be able to commu-communa-comm. _Fuck._ COMMUNICATE. You have to be able to _communicate_ with her.” Ben slurred before raising his glass to polish off the rest of his bourbon — only to realize that it was already empty. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He peered into the glass with one eye closed, huffed out a breath, and then reached across the table and picked up a half-empty bottle of Eagle Rare that they had “borrowed” from Han. “What was I saying?”

“That I need to communicate.”

“Right.” He didn’t even bother capping the bottle after he’d poured his drink. He just sat it back in the center of the table and carried on. “You gotta tell her that you’re sick of being in that fucking box. And if she still won’t let you out, then I don’t know — ask for a cage.”

Hux snorted. His eyes all squinty and glazed. “I’d rather not be in either, but I guess if I had to choose…” He shrugged, then gulped down what was left in his glass before getting another.

“Just give her time, man. You’ve known this girl your whole life, but you’ve only been with her for what? Two months?”

“You were in love with Rey after two days.” Hux shot back, knitting his brows until his forehead crinkled. “Don’t give me that shit.”

“I was in love with Rey after two _minutes_. But you and Tico are not me and Rey.” Ben shook his head. “I had to put in the work, and I’m _still_ putting in the work. I’m always going to _be_ putting in the work.”

“That’s because you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Yes, but look who you came to for advice — the fucking idiot.”

Hux raised his eyebrows, giving Ben a look that said, ‘ _You got me there.”_

“And yeah, sure, I may not know everything there is to know about women,” Ben continued, licking his lips. “But I _do_ know that what you want takes time. It’s not something that’s gonna happen after a couple months of fucking. You have to get to know her. What she likes. What she doesn’t like. What she believes in and dreams of and cares about. You have to know all of that shit, and it has to matter to you. What she _thinks_ has to matter to you.” He sluggishly poked his own temple.

“I get that.” Hux nodded. “And I want to know all of those things. I do. I want to know every single one of them. Because I feel like I’ve only brushed the surface with her and I already like what I see. But how am I supposed to get to know the rest if she won’t let me?”

Ben ran his hands down the length of his face, sighing into his fingers and making an honest attempt to string together a coherent thought. He had been doing pretty good there for awhile. Giving decent advice. Speaking from the heart. Genuinely wanting to help.

But now that the alcohol was starting to kick in, the only thing he could focus on was Rey.

His Rey.

His sweet, beautiful Rey.

He went to grab his phone, hell-bent on calling her.

Because Rey — Rey was so damn — so damn — _perfect_ , and sophisti—sophitical—sophisticated, and smart, and so fucking pretty.

She would know how to help.

And that’s what Ben wanted to do.

He wanted to help.

And also talk to Rey.

Two birds, one stone and all that.

But as soon as he picked up his phone, he fumbled it. Causing it to bounce off the edge of the table and fall to his feet, landing face-down on Han’s wooded deck.

“ _Shit.”_ He mumbled, then bent over to get it, half-expecting the screen to be shattered again.

It wasn’t.

Because God is good.

He did have a message though.

From her.

Rey.

The life of his fucking love.

—————

“Do you want my advice or not?” Rose raised her brows expectantly.

Rey was chewing on her lower lip, worrying the skin until it was all swollen and red. “Obviously, I want your advice. But I want _good_ advice. And telling me to send him a nude is not _good_ advice.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be a nude. Just something to get the blood flowing. Which, if we’re being honest,” she looked her up and down, then winked. “—could be just about anything. The point, though, is to make sure that you’re the _only_ thought that he has for the rest of the night.”

“But I never do that though. I don’t send him selfies. So, he would know something’s up.”

“Isn’t that the goal?” Rose smirked as she swirled her wine glass. “To get something up?”

Rey tightened her jaw to keep from smiling, or laughing, or both. Not only from the wine, or the sudden unexplainable need to laugh, but because, yeah, that was the ultimate goal. That was the endgame.

But she didn’t want anything up _right_ _now._

Not while Ben was four miles down the road — instead of here, with her, where she could at least gauge his reaction.

“Listen, if you don’t want to do it, then don’t.” Rose shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not trying to get you to do something that you’re not comfortable with. Because like I said, if you’re stressing over it, then you’re not enjoying it. And I want you to enjoy it. You deserve to enjoy it. But I also know that your main issue is worrying about what Ben will think of your body. Do I think you’re crazy for that? Absolutely. Because you are fucking _stunning_. I know it. He knows it. Hell, everyone in Chandy knows it. But you feel how you feel and all I can do is try to help you get past it. Which is why I said you should send him something. Whatever you want. It doesn’t even have to be a nude. I promise it doesn’t. I mean, this is Ben. You could send him a picture of your fucking ankle, and it would be enough to make him come.”

“Oh my God.”

“Well, am I’m wrong?” Rose blinked, waiting, watching Rey’s expression shift between mortified and amused. “No, Rose, you’re not.” She hummed in third person. “But that’s the thing, this isn’t about Ben. This is about you. Will he enjoy it? Of course he will. But the point is to make yourself feel beautiful, or desirable, or whatever it is that you need to feel in order to go into tomorrow night thinking, ‘I am a strong, confident woman that’s going to fuck her man so hard, and so good, that HE isn’t going to be able to walk in the morning.’”

Rey drew in a deep breath, her heart starting to pound.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Rose continued. “To feel powerful? And to know that you’re capable of wielding that power?”

“Yes,” she answered so quietly that it was hardly a whisper.

Rose cocked her head, brow arched. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Say it again.”

“YES!”

Rey gasped for air, eyes bulging wide as she swallowed what little bit of spit she had in her mouth. Then, she looked at her phone. It was laying on the coffee table, face up, with the light from her muted TV reflecting in its screen. And the longer she sat there, staring at it, the more she thought about it. About what Ben would do. About what it would mean for them. About how if this went wrong, like everything else had thus far, then there was no way that tomorrow night would happen. She wouldn’t even be able to open the door and let him in, let alone try to seduce him for the fourth, maybe fifth time.

But a part of her really wanted to do this. Some part deep inside of her that was screaming for validation. And before she could talk herself out of it, Rey shot up from the couch, grabbed her phone, and made her way to the bedroom.

“That’s my girl!” She heard Rose cry out. “Show Daddy what’s his”

Rey bit her lip, smiling as she shut the door behind her.

She had no idea what she was doing.

But she was going to do something.

So, she started by stripping out of those cheesy, cartoon penguin pajamas, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and then she went over to her dresser and tried to find something that would look halfway appealing.

Which wasn’t easy, considering how most of her bras were starting to fray, and if she found one that wasn’t, then there weren't any panties to match it.

But eventually, after thumbing through her whole collection, she decided to go with the one that made her breasts look the perkiest. A dark maroon net bra with a fake-diamond clasp in the front. She had only worn it once, because it was horrifically uncomfortable. Digging into her waist. Making her breasts threaten to spill out the top, or the bottom. Plus, it was far too scratchy to wear for any reason other than this one.

But, with the right angle, it would definitely get the job done.

And once she paired it with a pair of black, lace panties that conveniently hid what she referred to as her mom-pooch, she was ready to get this show on the road.

“Are you okay in there?” Rose shouted from the couch. “It’s been, like, ten minutes. Did you send it? Are you two having phone sex?”

“No, we’re not having phone sex.” She called back, rolling her eyes.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling her brown waves over to one side so that he’d get a good view of her neck and shoulder, and then she cocked her hip to the left, then the right, then back again, wanting to find a decent pose without looking like she was trying too hard. And after a few takes, she was starting to feel a little more confident, a little more daring. Touching her waist, her stomach, the column of her throat.

It wasn’t long before she found herself scrolling through her photo album, staring at the screen all wide-eyed and in awe.

“Wow.” She whispered, then glanced back up at her full length mirror, wondering if it was just trick photography or if that was really her. “Hey, Rose!”

“Yeah?” She yelled from the couch.

“You were right!”

“Say that again! I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Rey chuckled, shaking her head, and then pulled up her messages to Ben.

She hadn’t replied to the last one he sent.

A short text that said “I can’t wait” after she told him she would see him tomorrow night.

Which gave her the perfect opening.

“I can’t wait either.” She spoke the words out loud as she typed them, then smiled once she attached the photo.

What she had decided to send him was a little more risqué than she initially planned. Her head was tilted to the side, leaving her neck and shoulder exposed, and her fingers were tracing along the swell of her right breast.

It was very come-hither, or in their case, _come-home._

And she was almost as eager to send it as she was for him to see it.

Which, for her, was really saying something.

Once it was delivered, she tossed the bra and panties into the dresser, then got back into her pajamas. A smile never leaving her face as she walked into the living room, staring down at her phone and waiting for the text bubbles to pop up.

“What did you send? I wanna see.” Rose scooted closer watching the screen as Rey pulled up the picture, making it bigger. “Holy shit, Rey. You sent that to him?”

“Yeap.”

“Look at you. Jesus Christ. I just thought you’d settle for some cleavage. You know, show him a little skin. But you pulled out the fucking finisher.” Rose rambled proudly. Her excitement becoming contagious. “I mean, look at your tits!”

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Hell no,” came her quick reply. Her face scrunching as if the idea offended her. “Trust me. Solo is going to bust. Either in his pants or through that fucking door. You just wait.”

And Rey did wait.

For thirty-five long and excruciating minutes.

—————

Ben blinked down at his phone, wondering if he was so drunk that his eyes were starting to fuck with him, or if that was, if Rey was…

“ _Fuck_ ,” he choked out in a strangled breath.

Hux looked up, then furrowed his brows, wondering what was going on, or why Ben was suddenly sweating. “You okay?”

“What? Yes. I’m fucking — I’m _fuck_.” Ben didn’t even look up from the screen. He just kept staring. His eyes trailing down her body before swooping right back up to do it again. “ _Fuck_.”

“Alright, what is it?” Hux glared. “You’ve said fuck three times in the last ten seconds.”

_I can’t wait either._

Ben shifted in his seat, trying to relieve some of the pressure, and then brought his hand up to his mouth, trying not to make a single fucking sound even though he was a breath away from whimpering.

Why was she doing this?

Was she drunk?

Did she not mean to send it?

“ _Fuck._ ” She was perfect. In his inebriated state, that was the best that he could come up with. Perfect. She was perfect. And he hoped to God she meant to send this to him, because if not, it was going to be really fucking hard for him to pretend like he didn’t see it. “ _Fuck_."

“Say fuck one more time.” Hux held up his finger.

Ben was too busy replying to actually heed that warning.

His fingers typing, then deleting, then typing something else.

He wanted to ask if she'd let him live between her legs, but that sounded too fuckboy-ish.

Then, he nearly told her that he was about come in his pants, but that just sounded pathetic.

So, he settled on a subtle, “Can I come home now?”

Then, hit send.

—————

“What do you mean I can’t reply?” Rey glared at her. “I can’t just send him a message like that, and then ghost him.”

“Yes — you can.” Rose sighed as she watched Rey pace around the living room. “Just let him sit on it. Give him something to think about. Was that the reaction that you wanted from him?”

“Quit trying to change the subject.” Rey pouted, feeling a little wine drunk. Or maybe a lot wine drunk. She wasn’t really sure at this point. “This is Ben. My Ben. And I don’t want to ghost him. I want him to feel good.”

“Honey, believe me, he feels good. Now, will you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.” Rose massaged her temples as Rey sank to the floor next to the coffee table. “Okay, not what I meant. But alright.”

“He wants to come home.” Rey said with a small smile. “He called this _home_.”

“Probably because it feels like home to him. _You_ feel like home to him.”

“Don’t say that or I’ll cry.”

“Fine. Just — run this by me again.” Rose laid across the couch, putting the bag of Cheetos on her chest for easy access. “After he comes into the house, you’re going to guide him to the living room. Here. To this couch.”

“Yes.” Rey nodded. “To the couch.”

“Why the couch?”

“Because it’s closer than the bed and I’m going to be nervous.”

“Okay, that makes sense. So, what are you going to do when you get him to the couch?”

“Tell him to sit down?” Rey answered dubiously. Her eyes narrowed before opening wide. “Wait. No! Make him sit down. This is my show.”

“That’s better.” Rose grinned as she popped a Cheeto into her mouth. “Your show, your rules. Then, what?”

“Then, I’m going to drop the road — role — ROBE.” She stammered as she tried to refill her wine glass. “I’m going to drop the robe.”

“Why now?” Rose interrogated her, following it up with a series of loud crunches.

“What do you mean why now?”

“I mean, why are—” She swallowed before continuing. “Why are you taking it off five seconds after he walks through the door? I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just asking why.”

Rey sighed, then brushed her hair out of her face. “I guess because I’m afraid I’ll chicken out, so I want to get it over with.”

“Get it over with?” Rose lifted her head up just enough to glare at her. “What do you mean _get it over with_? Rey, do you feel obligated to sleep with him? Is that what this is?”

“What? No! Of course not.” She frowned, feeling a little offended. “I want this. I _need_ this. I just meant that I want to get the first step over with."

“Oh. So, you _need_ it, huh?” Rose slowly sat the rest of the way up, then scooted back until she was resting against the arm of the couch. A sly smile on her face. “And what exactly are you wanting and needing?”

“Oh my God. Just pass me the Cheetos.”

“Nope.” Rose snatched the bag before Rey could grab it. “Not until you say it.”

“I want to have sex with Ben. There. Now, can I have a Cheeto?”

“Not good enough.” Rose shrugged as she popped one into her mouth, then another one, crunching as loud as she could. “This is part of your training. Vocalizing how you feel and what you want.”

“Can we just skip this section of the handbook?”

“We most certainly cannot.” Rose arched a brow. “You have to be able to tell Ben what you want. We'll call it communicating whilst fornicating.”

“You mean, like dirty talk?”

“I mean, I guess if that’s the door you’re wanting to open, then sure, Bob Barker, you can dirty talk.” Rose shrugged before crawling down the couch and lying on her stomach. She sat the bag on the floor between her and Rey, then shoved her hand inside. “But I was thinking more on the lines of something a little more — _direct_.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like, asking him to lick the kitty. Or begging him to play with your clit because you’re his good little slut and you _need it_. Or, I mean, you know, if you really want to be bold, then tell him to stick it in your ass.” Rose said as she chewed, then chuckled once Rey’s eyes widened. “That look on your face is the reason we’re having this conversation. That one right there.”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“Oh, you have a look.” Rose quickly countered. “And that’s fine. It’s not a big deal. But this is your first time having sex since you were, what? Twenty? And you literally get into the fetal position whenever you hear someone say cock, or cum, or cunt.”

“I do not.”

“You do too. But it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with feeling what you feel, but if you’re wanting to be more open, or more direct in what you need, then you can’t be silent about it. You can’t just assume that he’ll know what you want, because he won’t. And that's why I want you to think, right now, about what you want to do with him. Specific things though. It has to be cut and dry. Nothing ambiguous, like kiss you, or touch you. Those are too broad.”

“What happened to just living in the moment?” Rey shot her a half-smiling, half-frowning grimace.

“Oh, honey, you lost your right to _live in the moment_ whenever you tried to seduce him with a bowl of popcorn.” Rose snorted out a laugh. “So, no, until you learn a few tricks of the trade, you’re not allowed to live in the moment.”

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Rey interjected. “It was the popcorn that got him on top of me.”

“Uh huh. As I was saying, you’re going to go into tomorrow night at a more direct angle.”

Rey rolled her eyes, “Fine."

“You’re going to tell him _exactly_ what you want. Get him to follow your lead.”

“Follow my lead. Got it.”

“Good. Now, you have to decide what you want him to do, or what you’re comfortable with him doing, and then be up front about it. Don’t just assume that he’ll know, because like I said, without you guiding him, he’s not going to. Not because he doesn’t want to, or that he isn’t willing. But because you’ve basically conditioned him into believing that he isn’t allowed to fuck you.”

Rey furrowed her brows, “No, I didn’t.”

“You probably didn’t _mean_ to. But you did.”

“You don’t know that. You couldn’t possibly know that.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You told the guy that you needed to be loosened up and instead of trying to make you come, his first instinct was to go get you a drink. Not to mention you shaking like a damn leaf whenever he put his hand on your ass.”

“I WAS NERVOUS!”

—————

“I’m gonna make babies with her.” Ben announced as the corner’s of his mouth curled into a lazy smile. His hair was hanging over his forehead, damp from sweat and matted in separated chunks, and his expression was sifting from giddy to sleepy, then back to giddy again. “So many babies.”

_Did you just giggle?_

Hux stared at him from across the table. Lips pressed into a thin line. Fingers drumming on one of the wood slats. Just sitting there, in absolute silence, watching Ben hold a glass upside-down over his mouth, head tilted back, draining every last drop as if he’d never have another.

“I’m so fucked if they’re all girls.”

“Uh huh,” came Hux’s response.

The same one that he had been giving for about an hour now.

He watched and waited as Ben sat the glass back down, then without even asking if he wanted another, Hux reached over, grabbed it by the rim, and poured him one anyway. His head shaking like a barkeep that had spent the entire night listening to some lovesick schmuck spill his soul out onto the countertop.

He didn’t mind it though — listening to Ben drone on and on about how much he loved Rey, or how he wanted to make babies with Rey, or how he was going to spend his, quote, _whole fucking life making Rey happy_. Because for the first time in a long time, Ben looked, acted, and sounded like himself again. Which made Armie feel like he had finally gotten his best friend back.

“But I hope they’re all girls,” Ben snorted as he grinned. “Just a whole fucking slew of little Rey’s."

“Uh huh.”

“I mean, I’ll take boys too. I don’t fucking care.” He shrugged as he took a drink. “Babies are babies, and if they’re Rey’s, then I want ‘em.”

A slight smirk twitched at the corner of Hux’s mouth.

“I’m so fucking in love with her, Arm.”

“Uh huh.”

“She’s just — She’s perfect, you know? She is. She’s perfect. And I know that word is so fucking cliche, or whatever, but it’s true.” He licked his lips, then grinned again. “She doesn’t believe me when I tell her that. She just rolls her eyes and smiles, but I swear to God, there isn’t anyone more perfect than she is.”

“Uh huh.”

“And she loves me!” Ben beamed like an idiot — his dimples digging into his cheeks. “This sweet, perfect, beautiful fucking girl loves _ME_.” He said with his fingers splayed across his chest — looking a little bit like Ross in that one episode of _Friends_ where he was trying to convince everyone that he was fine when he really wasn’t. Except Ben, bless his drunken heart, couldn’t have been more fine if he tried. “Can you believe it? She fucking loves me. I’m fucking _loved._ ”

If he didn’t ease up on the grinning, his face was going to start cramping.

But Armie didn’t have the heart to tell him to relax.

So instead, he just smirked and nodded and gave Ben another, “Uh huh.”

“I’m gonna marry her.” He said with as much seriousness as his inebriated state would allow. “I mean, that's if she’ll let me. Do you think she’ll let me? I - I know I fucked up before, and that she’s probably scared that I’ll do it again, but I swear on my life, I’ll be at the fucking altar this time. I should — I should tell her that. That I’ll be there. You think she’s awake?”

“NO!” Hux lunged forward, snatching Ben’s phone before he even had time to unlock it. “You don’t want to do that right now.”

“I don’t?”

Armie almost felt bad for stopping him, because now Ben had this kicked puppy look on his face. Like he was in trouble but didn’t quite understand what he did wrong. His eyes all glassy and downturned; his jaw wobbling.

So, yeah, Armie _almost_ felt bad.

But Ben was drunk off his ass and the last thing he needed was to botch a proposal — so sad eyes or not, he wasn’t calling Rey.

“No, buddy, you don’t.” Hux shook his head. “Not like this. You don’t want it to happen like this. You want it to be special for her, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he answered in a voice so small it was pitiful.

“You want to have flowers, and be down on one knee, and have a ring to give her. You don’t even have a ring yet. So, we need to wait a little while, okay?”

It was like telling a child why they couldn’t have cookies before dinner.

“Will you go with me? To get her a ring?”

“Yeah. Of course I’ll go with you.” Hux assured him. “But before we do, you’re going to have to make sure that Rey wants to get married. You can’t just expect her to say yes. You have to know what she wants.”

“Then I’ll ask her if she wants to marry me.”

“No, that’s — that’s the same as proposing.”

“Fine, then I’ll tell her that I want to marry her.”

Hux flatted his mouth, “That’s also the same as proposing.”

“Well, then what am I supposed to do?!”

—————

“You can start by telling him you need him inside you.” Rose explained as she tossed up a peanut, smiling as Rey leaned to the left and caught it in her mouth. “Let him know how wet he’s made you. Or how bad you need to come. Just make sure he knows that _he’s_ the reason you’re so turned on. And when he starts to get into it, because he _will_ get into it, then that’s when you’ll make your next move.”

“And what’s my next move?” Rey asked mid-chew. “I straddle him on the couch, tell him I want him inside me — then what?”

“ _Need_ him inside you. You _need_ him inside you. You want it to sound more like a necessity than a desire.” She corrected. “But your next move, after you’ve planted that thought in his mind, is where the _sense of touch_ will come in. You’ll want to touch him. Not his dick though. Don’t touch that yet. Save it for last. Start somewhere else. His mouth. His cheek. His ear, neck, shoulder. It doesn’t really matter where, just make sure you go slow. Drag it out. Build up his excitement. That way he knows exactly where this is going.”

“And if he doesn’t take the hint?”

“Oh, he’ll take the hint. But if for some reason he’s an idiot and doesn’t, then you can ask him if he wants you.” Rose crunched loudly. “He’s obviously going to say yes. And when he does, you’ll tell him to take what he wants.”

“Then he’ll be the one in control.”

Rose smiled, looking proud. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Wow. You’re good at this.” Rey stared, almost in disbelief, causing Rose to burst out laughing. “No, I’m serious. You’re really good at this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe one day I’ll write a book.” Rose pitched another peanut, making a near perfect arch that landed right in the middle of Rey’s tongue. “Or I guess I could start a podcast. Those seem to be all the rage.”

Rey chuckled quietly, then leaned back into the arm of the couch, slouching down into the cushion with one leg stretched out towards Rose. She was looking at her phone. Mainly the reply that Ben had sent. The subtle ‘Can I come home now?’ that made her insides flutter. And she hated that she hadn’t replied to it. That Rose had aggressively slammed a long, wooden staff into the ground, like Gandalf in _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , and then shouted ‘You Shall Not Reply’ as if texting Ben back was somehow against the house rules.

Then again, she also didn't want a repeat of Monday night.

So, she decided to listen to her guru and not write him back.

Well, at least not _right then._

But deep down, Rey knew that she wouldn’t have liked it if the roles were reversed and _he_ had been the one who didn’t reply. Because that message wasn’t meant to be left open-ended. 

Which was why, at a quarter past one, Rey feigned a tired yawn.

Her arms stretching above her head; her eyelids growing heavy.

“I’m so sleepy. Do you want to take the bed?” She offered, thumbing over her shoulder towards the bedroom. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Not a chance. This couch is comfortable. And I’m not moving.”

"Suit yourself. But I'm calling it a night."

Rey left her a fleece blanket and one of her good pillows, and then tried her best to get out of there without raising any suspicions. Telling Rose goodnight and that she would see her in the morning. Turning off the TV, then the lamp, then hallway light. But as soon as she reached the bedroom, shut the door, and locked it behind her, she was calling Ben.

One ring.

She licked her lips, pacing over to the bed, and then slid under the covers.

Two rings.

She could do this.

She could be sexy.

She _was_ sexy.

Three rings.

“Rey?”

A smile broke across her face, “Hi, Ben.”

“Hold on. Two sec — two seconds.”

She skimmed her fingertip around her bellybutton, then inched closer to the waistband of her penguin pajama bottoms, all while listening to him stumble up the stairs.

She knew he was stumbling up the stairs because the third one from the bottom had a very distinct creak.

“Ben, are you okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ drunk. I think? No, I am. I’m drunk.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, “Get some water out of the upstairs bathroom and drink it.”

“Hmm. Good idea.” He mumbled.

When the faucet turned on, she could hear him gulping down what sounded like huge mouthfuls, which made her wonder if the dummy had his head in the sink.

He probably did, knowing him.

Yet, despite the call already getting off to a strange start, Rey was still in the mood. Her fingers traveling further and further south until they were at the top of her slit; her tongue poking out to moisten her lips.

“Ben,” she said sweetly, hoping to get his attention. “I miss you.”

“You want me to come home?” He shot back so quickly that his words were strung together. “I’ll walk.”

“It’s too far to walk.”

“Then, I’ll run.”

She shook through a silent chuckle, “Just go to your room and shut the door.”

“But you’re not in there.”

“I know I’m not. But I’m right here. And I want you to go lay down.”

She heard him say something on the lines of ‘ _if you want me to,’_ and then there were a few stumbling footsteps, a door creaking open, a lock being turned, and what sounded like a crash.

“Ben?”

“Sorry.”

She stared up at the ceiling, a wide grin on her face. “What did you knock over?”

“Vacuum cleaner. Think I broke it.”

“It comes apart. Just leave it alone.”

“Okay.”

The creak of a mattress told her that he’d made it to the bed, and the hard sigh he let out afterwards let her know that he was _finally_ laying down.

“Did you like the picture I sent you?” She asked him as she slid her fingers into her opening, gathering the wetness.

“Mhm,” came his sleepy groan, like music to her ears. “Made me wanna come home.”

“Oh yeah?” She said as her chest heaved with a breath, working her clit in slow and steady circles. “And what would you have done if you had?”

“Got on my knee.”

“And then what? Wh-what would you have done?”

She could feel her skin getting warmer. Her breaths becoming a lot more labored; her whole body twitching each time she hit the right spit. It wouldn't take much to make her come, which was surprising, considering how it usually takes a lot longer than a couple minutes. But after spending the last several hours unable to think about anything other than sex, she was keyed up and ready to go. 

She just needed him to talk her through it.

To tell her what he would do if he was there.

To let her know just how badly he wanted to fuck her.

Or how hard seeing her body had made him.

And yet — he didn’t.

He didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he mumbled something so unexpected that it made Rey freeze.

“What?”

"Hmm?"

"Say it — Say it again."

“Say which part? That I'd ask you to marry me? Was gonna call you and tell you but Arm took my phone.”

Rey gently pulled her hand out of her pajama pants and let it rest on her stomach. Her eyes becoming glassy and waterlogged; her closed mouth curling into the softest of smiles as she listened to him try and turn his words into sentences.

“Wait.” He whispered, sounding confused. “I’m not s’posed to say that.”

She reached up, wiping a tear away with her knuckle. “You're not supposed to say what?” She asked him — just as confused.

“Tell you I wanna marry you.”

“Why are you not supposed to tell me that?”

“‘Cause Arm said you might not say yes.”

“And you listened to him?”

“Obviously not,” she heard him snort out a nasally giggle, which ended up making her laugh with him. “He said I can’t ask you ‘til I figure out what you want. But I can’t figure out what you want if I don’t ask you. I don’t like this, Rey.”

She turned over onto her side, smiling into her pillow.

“I’m really confused.” He continued. “And I’m drunk. And you won’t marry me because I’m an idiot. And I don’t know how to convict—convent— _convince_ you that I’ll be there this time.”

A tear fell over the bridge of her nose, trickling down until it disappeared beneath her cheek. “Ben…”

“I’ll be there.”

“I know.”

“I swear to you, I'll be there.”

“Ben, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to love you any more than I already do.” She heard him whisper. His voice coming out so soft, yet so sad, that it made her eyes even wetter. “And I know that, right now, you're probably afraid to say yes. And you have every reason to not believe a word I tell you. But I really, really don't want you to be afraid of that. I don't want you to be afraid to marry me."

"I'm not, Ben." She dried her eyes, then settled back into her pillow. A tired grin on her face. "I promise, I'm not afraid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Rey does her best. Bless her heart.


	23. Nobody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Ahem* The smut has arrived.
> 
> Mind the warnings below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written smut before. And I ALMOST skipped over it for this story, and just focused on the plot. But with a little encouragement, and possibly a few of you twisting my arm, I think I've come up with something you all will like.
> 
> Also, this chapter is over 18k words long because I didn't want to stop. 
> 
> So, I guess you could say my arm was twisted pretty good.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Nobody" by Keith Sweat... but you should've seen that coming. 😏😉
> 
> CONTENT WARNING:  
> Unsafe Sex  
> Mentions of Pregnancy
> 
> This story is just fiction and shouldn't be taken as an example.  
> Please, please, please practice safe sex.

Ben staggered down the steps a few minutes before seven. His t-shirt and sweatpants all crumpled and wrinkled; his hair a ruffled mess. He wasn’t sure why in God’s name he was up this early, or how he had managed to make it up to his room last night, but here he was — lumbering into the kitchen before the dew on the front lawn had even dried.

He figured he’d find Han at the table, drinking coffee and doing whatever crossword puzzle came in the newspaper this week. But when he rounded the corner, all of the chairs were empty. The old man had to be awake though. Because there was a freshly-made pot of coffee on the counter next to a plate of bacon, along with two pieces of bread already sitting in the toaster.

And if there was ever a dead giveaway for Han Solo — that was it.

Ben shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh, and then pressed down on the lever.

It had been a long time since he’d had his father’s infamous hangover cure.

A cup of pitch-black coffee and the greasiest bacon sandwich in the whole state of New York.

A remedy that Ben was fairly certain didn’t come with a shred of scientific evidence to back it.

And yet, somehow it always seemed to work anyway.

Unless the whole thing was just one, big placebo and he was being duped into thinking that it worked.

Either way, he knew not to question it.

Not in this house at least.

So, he reached over, grabbed a clean mug from the drying rack and started pouring.

And then once he had his sandwich in hand, he went looking for Han. Knowing that if he wasn’t at the kitchen table or on the back patio, then he was probably on the front porch starting his morning shift as the neighborhood watchman.

Why his dad felt the need to stare at every yard within eyesight, Ben didn’t know. But sure enough, as he slipped out the front door, careful not to let it slam behind him, Han was sitting on one of two, foldable Adirondack chairs, drinking coffee and glaring at Mr. Greedo’s grass.

“You’re up earlier than I expected.” Han said without looking.

Ben plopped down on the chair beside him, balancing his coffee on one of the arms and taking a huge chunk out of his sandwich. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, you and Red must’ve had quite a night. Heard you both stumbling in around one.”

“Sorry if we woke you up.”

“Eh. I’m just glad you two were here instead of God-knows-where.” Han looked over at him. “Did Red ever decide what he’s gonna do about the Tico girl?”

Ben shook his head no, licking grease off of his lips. “I told him to talk to her, but I’m not sure that will do him any good.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s Rose.” He shrugged. “And I mean, I guess just don’t see them lasting.”

It was hard for him to admit that, and he’d never say it to anyone else aside from his dad, and of course, Rey. But Ben knew that Armie was completely smitten, and that he was the type to want the white picket fence and the tire swing.

And Rose?

Well, Ben wasn’t really sure what Rose wanted.

“And don’t get me wrong, I like her.” He continued, keeping his voice down. “I think she’s cool as Hell, and she’s a good friend to Rey, and she adores Ani. So, it’s not that I don’t like her. I just — I don’t know.”

“You think she’s stringing Red along?”

“No, I don’t think it’s _that._ I just think he likes her more than she likes him.”

“Why? Because he wants to go steady and she doesn’t?”

“No one says ‘go steady’ anymore, Dad.” Ben chuckled before tugging off another piece of his sandwich. “I think they just—” He swallowed his bite. “They want two different things, you know? He wants more. She likes what they have now. And unless they can meet somewhere in the middle, or I don’t know — make some kind of compromise — then it’s just not gonna work.”

Han stared straight ahead, a smile on his face, watching the road. “You sound like your mother.”

Ben turned to look at him.

“That woman was all about compromising.” Han huffed out a laugh. “Matter of fact, _you_ were a compromise.”

Ben furrowed his brow, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Leia wanted me to get outta the Air Force,” he tried to clarify. “Said I was gone too long at a time and she didn’t like being alone as much as she was. But I was about to get promoted, and at the time, the money was just too good to pass up.” His shoulders shrugged. “So, I told her I wasn’t getting out. And I knew right then that I was about to lose her. She damn near had the divorce papers ready to go. And honestly, I probably would’ve signed them.”

“I thought you did sign them?” Ben frowned, confused.

“That was the first time we divorced.” Han chuckled. “This was after we’d remarried.”

“So, what then? You knocked her up and here I am?”

“Nah,” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Leia told me she wanted to start a family. That she wanted to be a mother. And I’ll be honest, I never saw myself having kids.” He confessed, before looking over at Ben. “Not now though.” He quickly assured him. “Back then, I didn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground. But believe me, kid, being your father was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And even if I wasn’t always good at it, I still wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world. You gotta know that.”

Ben bobbed his head slightly. “I do. I know.”

“Your mother though,” He continued. “I reckon she just wanted something that would give her a purpose. Something other than sitting around, waiting on my ass. And since I didn’t wanna have to choose between her and my career — we compromised.” His lips curled into a smile. “And here you are.”

“And here I am.”

“Compromises work, son.” Han pointed out. “Well, if they come with good intentions they do. But you gotta stick to ‘em. If you give someone your word, you gotta—”

“Keep it.” Ben grinned, losing count of how many times he’d heard that sentence over the years. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well — as long as you know.” Han groaned, then went back to scouring the neighborhood.

The two of them slipped into a comfortable silence after that — with Ben polishing off the rest of his sandwich and Han brooding over Mr. Greedo’s love of reptilian lawn decor.

And once Ben was down to nothing but five greasy fingers, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked to see if he had a text from Rey.

He didn’t.

At least not any new ones.

He did have a couple from Phasma though, asking him how fatherhood was treating him. Then, another from Mitaka, also asking him how fatherhood was treating him.

The last one he had with Rey said ‘ _Fuck I love you’ —_ sent around twelve-thirty. Which Ben definitely didn’t remember getting or sending. So, he clicked on her name, bringing up their messages, and saw a whole row of drunk texts, all from him, covering the entire screen.

“Jesus,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

_Can I come home now?_

_O lobe you so munch_.

 _Wanna hild you_.

 _Fuck Rey_.

 _Cnat thinkl_.

_Soo fuckong prity._

_Cart stopp Loki at you._

_Fuck I love you_

Each one was sent at different times over the course of the night. Some ten minutes apart. Others twenty minutes apart. A couple back to back. And not a single one of them received any sort of response from her.

Which, after reading through that embarrassing string of misspelled nonsense, he could kind of see why.

But then he scrolled up — and he saw it.

“ _Fuck…me…”_ He drawled in a long and seemingly endless whisper. His chest heaving through a breath. Every muscle in his face becoming slack.

_I can’t wait either._

“You alright, kid?”

Yes.

His groin was getting a little full.

But yes.

“Mhm, m’good.”

He blindly sat his coffee down on the little end table between him and Han, then tried to make a few necessary adjustments to alleviate the pressure, all while refusing to take his eyes off of her.

Would it have helped if he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket?

Certainly.

But right now, Ben felt like Bobby Boucher in _The Waterboy_ whenever Vicki Vallencourt lifted up her shirt and showed him his first pair of titties.

And he would rather come in his fucking pants, right here, with his father less than two feet away, than to look away from her.

There was one thing eating at him though.

Rey had never replied to him.

And, sure, she might’ve just fallen asleep. Because she told him that her and Rose were drinking wine, and Ben knew that wine always wore her out. So, maybe she sent the picture, then dozed off. Or maybe she was so drunk that she couldn’t decipher any of the nonsense that autocorrect’s raggedy ass didn’t bother to fix.

There were plenty of reasons for why she didn’t reply to him, but the only one that Ben could seem to focus on — was that she didn’t mean to send it.

It might’ve just been one, big drunken mistake.

And if it was, then that would make sense as to why she never replied to him.

Because if it was an accident, then right now, knowing her, she was probably embarrassed, or upset, or maybe even a little uncomfortable. And probably didn’t want to talk to him.

Not that she had any reason to be embarrassed, because _fucking Hell_.

But this was Rey. And he knew that in her heart of hearts, she didn’t do things like this. And the idea of it being unintentional scared the shit out of him.

Because how the fuck was he going to pretend like he didn’t see it?

“You sure you’re alright?” Han narrowed his eyes. “You’re looking a little flushed.”

“Yeah, I just… I, um…” Ben cleared his throat. “It’s a little hot out.”

Han peered over his shoulder, looking up at the thermometer nailed to the house. “It’s fifty-seven degrees.”

“Must be me then.”

His quick wit made Han laugh, but Ben knew he needed to change the subject. Otherwise, he was going to have to explain to his father why he was currently sporting a semi. And since that was the very last thing that Ben planned to do today, he was scrambling to find a different topic.

Which should’ve been a lot easier than this, considering how his relationship with Han had never been better.

But there wasn’t a whole lot that happened around here at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning, aside from a couple of cars driving by or an occasional bird plopping down on the feeder. And, yeah, he guessed he could’ve asked him if the Falcon was running any better. Or if there was anything that he wanted or needed for Father’s Day, since it was right around the corner. But luckily, before Ben had time to do something stupid, like comment on the weather or ask if Han needed a new pressure washer — a car came to a slow stop at the curb across the street.

It was some sort of sleek, white sedan, maybe a Lexus, with a driver that had to be in his late fifties, possibly a little older. Ben didn’t recognize him when he got out of the car. But apparently the man knew Han. Because after he shut the door, he raised his hand, mouth pressed into a thin line, and made some half-assed attempt to be friendly even though Ben could tell that he was probably a real piece of shit.

“Who’s that?”

“Ah. Old Man Kenobi’s boy.” Han threw up his hand. “Arrogant prick.”

Ben nearly choked on a laugh, grinning at Han before turning back to the street. “I’m guessing he owns the house now?”

“Yeah. He comes in ever so often to pay the taxes on it.” Han huffed as he pulled out a pack of Marlboro reds from his front pocket, then offered one to Ben. “Son of a bitch might as well just mail it in.”

Ben smirked as he lit his cigarette, then passed the lighter back.

He had never really given much thought to Old Man Kenobi’s house.

Growing up, it was something that he never really paid much attention to. It was just always there, to the point where he simply stopped noticing it.

This massive, three-story Victorian home that had probably been built before Chandy was even a town.

Ben let his eyes rake over it: the weathered, brown siding, the boarded up windows, an eroded roof with several shingles missing, and a yard that probably hadn’t been mowed in over a year.

He didn’t have to ask if anyone lived there, or if the place was being rented out, because it was pretty obvious that it had been empty for quite awhile. Probably ever since Old Man Kenobi died. Which was a shame, because the house was beautiful — with a large, imposing turret built on top of a wrap around porch, a balcony off of the master suite facing the road, and a two car garage connected by a breezeway.

Sure, the place needed a lot of work.

But apparently Rey wanted a lot of kids.

And Ben had a lot of time.

“So,” he tilted his head back. His gears turning as he exhaled a cloud of smoke towards the roof of the porch. Then, he let his eyes drop to a crooked mailbox, and a horribly cracked driveway, a dented garage door, before finally settling on a long, leaf-filled gutter that was one good storm away from breaking off. “You think he’d sell it?”

“Why?” Han huffed out a laugh. “You looking to buy a house?”

Ben reached over to the table, picking up his mug, and then brought it over to his mouth without ever looking away from the gutter. “Maybe.”

—————

All five of his senses.

She had to stimulate all five of his senses.

Rey dropped an armload of groceries onto the kitchen island, took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off her brow, and then started putting it all away. Potatoes in the bin. Milk and eggs and cheese in the fridge. Bread in the bread box. Cans in the pantry. A bottle of wine that was supposed to have been on sale, but apparently wasn’t, went in the freezer to chill.

She had already cut up the chicken before she left for work that morning, letting it marinate in some balsamic vinegar and brown sugar concoction that she’d found on Pinterest, and then she closed up the shop about forty-five minutes early just so she could swing by Lando’s and pick up a container of strawberries on her way home.

A last minute suggestion from Rose.

Chocolate-covered strawberries.

Rey wasn’t too sure if Ben would even like them, given how his go-to guilty pleasure, of all things, was a soft pretzel. But she knew that he didn’t hate chocolate, and that he didn’t hate strawberries, so maybe she could sweet-talk him into at least trying them.

That would cross _taste_ off of her list.

After that, she'd only need hearing, touch, smell, and sight.

Sight.

“The mail.” She snapped her fingers, remembering the nightie.

She had ordered it off of a website that she’d never even heard of. One that Rose had used a couple months ago to buy some kind of laced negligee and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. And since there had been a Memorial Day sale going on last weekend, Rey was able to get something she liked, but for half of the price.

Not that she was trying to be a penny-pincher. But lingerie was expensive. And she couldn’t afford to drop fifty or sixty dollars on something that she might wear once or twice.

She did, however, pay an extra twelve dollars to have it shipped to her in two days. And even though it had taken four, she was just glad that it was here and that everything was _finally_ starting to come together.

She just needed to wash the bedsheets, the pillowcases, light a few candles, sweep and mop the floors, shave everything from the neck down, lather on a little lotion, curl her hair, put the chicken and the vegetables in the oven, spritz her neck and chest with a little perfume, rehearse her lines, and maybe scrub the kitchen counters — you know, just in case they needed to use them.

It also wouldn’t hurt to vacuum the couch.

Or maybe put down a sheet.

She was standing in the living room, chewing on her thumbnail and glancing around as if she wasn’t quite sure where to start. The package was in her other hand, along with a few bills that she wasn’t going to look at until tomorrow. So, she guessed it would probably be a good idea to start there, with the nightie, since the thing would probably need to be washed.

She tore it open while walking into the kitchen, taking it out of the plastic and throwing the excess into the trash before holding it out in front of her and giving it a once over.

It definitely looked like it did in the picture — with two, thin spaghetti straps and a deep, plunging neckline that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

And it was soft.

So soft.

But looked kind of — small?

She flipped over the tag. Her eyes bulging.

“Oh my God,” She choked out a whisper, then rushed over to the counter and grabbed her phone. “No, no, no, no, no…”

She put the call on speaker, laid her phone on the kitchen island, and then immediately started stripping out of her t-shirt and leggings. Tossing them over her shoulder in a panic before unhooking her bra and letting it fall to her feet.

“Let me guess,” Rose’s voice echoed. “Lando’s didn’t have any strawberries.”

“No, I’ve got the strawberries. It’s the nightie”

“What’s wrong with the nightie? Is it torn?”

Rey held up her arms and tried to slip it over her head. “It’s about to be.” She said in a muffled grunt.

“Do what?”

“They sent me a small instead of a medium!”

“So? Just send it back.”

“I can’t just send it back!” Rey panted as she pulled it over her chest and down her stomach, sucking in as much as she could to make more room. Fortunately, the material had a little give to it, stretching just enough to cover her ass, but not enough to actually stay down without wanting to ride right back up. “Ben will be here in a few hours and I don’t have anything else to wear and I don’t have time to go find something and I don’t know what to do because I can’t — I can’t move in this thing.”

“Just calm down. It’ll be fine.” Rose assured her. “Maybe you can stretch it out a little. It’s silk right?”

“I think… so.” Rey groaned as she struggled to get it back off. “Rose, I’m stuck."

“How stuck?”

“STUCK STUCK!”

“Well, if you were able to get it on, then it has to be able to come off. Try getting it over one arm.”

“I’m gonna tear it.”

“Silk is one of the strongest natural fibers. It’s not gonna tear.”

Rey nearly tripped over her own feet trying to get it over her chest, which ultimately made her miss the days when her breasts, among other things, were a lot smaller.

She did, however, manage to get out of it.

Except she tugged it so hard that it flung off like a rubber band — launching clear across the kitchen and landing in a ceramic, Dutch oven that was soaking in the sink.

“Oh God.”

“What?”

Rey ran over in nothing but a pair of cotton briefs, then pulled the nightie out of the water. Her face twisting into a grimace as she tried to pick off chunks of cheese and what looked like a soggy red pepper but could’ve been a piece of a cooked tomato.

“Rose.”

“What? What happened?”

“Does silk shrink when you wash it?”

“I mean, not if you put it in cold water. Why?”

“Because I’m going to have to to wash it.” Rey swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes beginning to well. “I’ll call you back.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No, I’m fine. It’ll be fine. This is fine.” She wadded it up in her hand, trying not to let it drip all over the floor, then scurried into the laundry room and tossed it into the washer. “I HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL.”

That was a lie.

But despite _knowing_ it was a lie, Rose simply let out a quiet chuckle and told her to call if she needed any help.

Then she hung up, leaving poor Rey to try and figure out how she was going to get everything ready in three and a half hours.

“Maybe I should just tell him to come at seven instead of six. That’ll buy me some time.”

—————

“You want to buy a _what_?” Hux wrinkled his nose and frowned.

He was sitting on Han’s couch, a blanket flung over his lap, with his hair falling flat on one side and sticking out on the other.

Ben was standing over him, arms crossed and looking somewhat nervous as he waited for his financial adviser to finish rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“A house.”

Hux blinked up at him, squinting groggily. “What time is it?”

“About thirty minutes after three.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Nope. I’m completely sober. But I need you to get up. Because Gordon agreed to sell it to me, but he wants me to make a deposit and sign some kind of purchase agreement first, and since I don’t know what the fuck that is, I need you to put a shirt on and go with me to the—”

“Hold on.” Hux held up his hand. “Who the Hell is Gordon?”

“Old Man Kenobi’s son.”

“I didn’t know Old Man Kenobi had a son.”

“Neither did I, but that’s not the point.” Ben said as he gathered each of Armie’s shoes and brought them over to him. “The bank is gonna close a four o’clock, and he wants three grand.”

“Three fucking — Wait a minute. Where’s Han?”

“On the phone with Luke sorting out the paperwork.”

Hux shoved his foot into one of his shoes, “And Rey?”

“She doesn’t know.” Ben dug into the pocket of his jeans, making sure that he had his keys. “Yet!” He added. “She doesn’t know yet.”

“Ben—” Hux stood up from the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can’t just buy a house without telling her. A car, sure. A fucking boat, fine. But a _house_?”

“She told me I should put myself first sometimes. So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m putting myself first.”

“That’s not putting yourself first, you idiot.” Hux tugged his shirt over his head, then shoved his arms into the sleeves. “That’s you buying her a house without asking her if she even wants one.”

“She wants more kids, Arm. A lot more. And by some fucking miracle, she wants them with me.” Ben pointed at his chest. His voice growing serious. “But I can’t give her more kids until I buy her a bigger house. So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m buying her a bigger house. But I’m not just buying it. I’m going to renovate the whole damn thing from top to bottom. Make it look exactly how she wants it to look. And not just because she’s the love of my life or the mother of my child. But because she’s the best fucking person that I’ve ever known and I don’t fucking deserve her. I don’t even come _close_ to deserving her.” He finally took a breath. His chest heaving in a series of hard pants. “But I’m trying to.”

“You know I think you’re insane, right?”

“Yeah, well—” He choked out, shrugging his shoulders. “Get in line.”

Hux scratched his temple, then rested both hands on top of his head. Fingers locked. Elbows out. His face pulled into a slight grimace. “How much is it? Or do I even want to know?”

“Three fifty-two. Well, technically, three fifty-five.”

“Thousand?” Hux raised both brows, putting his arms back down. “That’s actually not too bad. I thought you were talking about spending millions.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I definitely would. But then Rey would be pissed. And that would just defeat the whole purpose.”

“Okay. Alright. So, where is this house at?”

A wide grin broke across Ben’s face as he turned to leave. “Across the street.”

“Whoa. Hold on. Wait a minute. THAT house?” Hux chased after him. “The one that looks like something from the fucking Addams Family?”

“I told you Old Man Kenobi’s son. What house did you think I meant?”

“NOT THAT ONE. Jesus Christ. Does it even have running water?”

“I don’t know. But it has nine bedrooms.”

“For fuck sake, Ben! How many kids are you trying to have?”

His smile deepened as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “As many as she’ll let me put in her.”

—————

“I PUT IT IN COLD WATER.” Rey cried into the phone. Her palm pressing against her forehead as she paced back and forth around the living room.

“Did you put it in the dryer?”

“Yeah?”

“Then, that’s why it shrunk.”

She plopped down on the couch. Her hand covering her mouth. “Rose, what am I going to do? It already didn’t fit!”

“Well, you could always go naked. I mean, it’s pretty much the same thing anyway. Just skipping a step.”

“A REALLY IMPORTANT STEP!”

Rose blew out a hard sigh, causing air to waft into the speaker until it sounded like she was standing in a wind tunnel. “Alright, fine. If you’re hellbent on wearing the nightie, then you’re going to have to keep trying to stretch it. You said you can at least get it on, right? So, do this. Put it on. Then, walk around in it. Do some lunges. Or, I don’t know — squats? Just move around and see if that’ll loosen it up.”

“And if I rip it?”

“I told you — it’s not gonna rip. It’s silk. So, just give it a try, and if that doesn’t work, then you can always wear what you had on last night.”

Rey smiled into her fingers, “I think he liked that one.”

“I _know_ he liked that one.”

“He should be getting here soon.” Rey glanced down at the clock on her phone. “Thirty minutes. Maybe forty-five since it’s him. So, I’ll put it on and see what happens.”

“No, honey. He’ll be there in thirty. Trust me.”

“Maybe. But I should probably text him and make sure he’s still coming. Knowing him, he probably forgot that I changed the time to seven.”

“You can text him all you want. But I can promise you, he’s gonna be coming. And I don’t mean around the mountain. I’m talking instantly. As soon as the tip’s in.”

“Oh my God, Rose.”

“You think I’m kidding, but I give that boy five seconds tops.”

“I’m hanging up now.” Rey buried her face in her hand. “I love you.”

She could hear her yelling ‘ _Give your omelette my regards’_ as the call was ending, but Rey just shook her head, grinned like a goof, and then swiped back to the home screen and brought up her messages.

The last one that she sent Ben had been over an hour ago, replying with a ‘ _No. But I would rather you didn’t._ ’ whenever he asked if she would be mad at him if he spent a lot of money on her birthday present. It was next week. June 11th. The big twenty-five. And since Ben never wrote her back, Rey knew, without a doubt, that he had read the first word of her text, the no, and then completely ignored the rest of it.

She wouldn’t lie though.

She was dying to know what he was getting her.

Or had gotten her.

Because on Mother’s Day he had bought one of those expensive, print-proof dishwashers that let her control the wash cycles from her phone. Not to mention a stack of gift-cards, a candle for practically every room, and a gold cuff bracelet with Ani’s name and birthday engraved on the inside of it.

Yet, none of those gifts had come with an are-you-going-to-be-mad-at-me text.

So, if he was worried that she was going to be mad, then there was literally no telling what he had done.

—————

“She said she wouldn’t be mad.” Ben shrugged as he stood on one of the cracks in their soon-to-be driveway.

“I’m pretty sure her exact words were ‘ _No. But I would rather you didn’t_.’” Hux shot back as he tried to pull out a weed that was growing through the asphalt. “As in, she would rather you not spend three hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars on a house.” He stood up, out of breath, and glanced around them. “Your yard has thistles. Fucking thistles.”

“ _My_ yard does, doesn’t it?” He beamed.

“You have _got_ to be the most impulsive person I've ever met.” Hux tossed the weed aside. “You didn’t have to buy it today, you know? You could’ve made the deposit, like he asked for, and then waited until you knew _for sure_ that this was the one. I mean, fuck, Ben, you didn’t even have it appraised! What if there’s asbestos or some shit?”

Ben gave him a side eye, arms crossed over his chest, biceps drawn tight, wondering if Armie _really_ thought that he’d let either of his girls within a hundred feet of this place without making sure that it was safe for them.

“You act like I’m not gonna have someone come look at it.”

“YOU’VE ALREADY BOUGHT IT, DIPSHIT.”

“Because he was going back to Kansas, asshole!”

“Arkansas.”

“Whatever.” Ben’s lips curled into a very Solo-like scowl. “He said that he wouldn’t be able to come back until September, and I can’t wait that long. Her birthday is next week.”

“And the only thing that you could think to get her was a house?” Hux pointed his whole hand towards it. “One that might have asbestos. Or — or a fucking ghost!”

Ben tried to keep from laughing, but couldn’t. “If you tell my daughter that there’s a ghost in there, I swear to God, I’ll bury you in the backyard.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure I’ll have company.”

In all fairness, it really _could_ pass as a haunted house — with a few of the windows cracked from God-knows-what and an abandoned wasps nest around the frame of the front door — but where Hux saw ruin, Ben saw Rey.

Her little nose twitching as she tried to decide on which flowers she wanted to plant around the porch. Or a smile stretching clear across her face once she realized that she could finally have her very own clawfoot tub. It was little things like that. Like, the sound of her humming in the kitchen while she made lunches for the kids to take to school. Or the smell of her burning eighteen different candles with eighteen different scents until the whole house smelled like Bath & Body Works. Or just the sight of her lying on the couch, her swollen feet in his lap, while she balanced _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ on her belly — even though after baby number three, they both should’ve probably known.

“Are you smiling because you just remembered something funny?” Hux arched his brow, looking over at him. “Or are you imagining Old Man Kenobi burying people in his backyard?”

Ben bit down on his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth. His dimples digging into his cheeks. “I’m just excited.”

—————

Rey wasn’t sure where all of this nervous energy was coming from. After all, this was _her_ idea. Every bit of it — from the chocolate-covered strawberries sitting in a crystal dish on the kitchen counter, to the _Febreze_ that she’d sprayed on the bedsheets, to the skintight nightie that was currently digging into the meat of her thighs. She had planned this whole night, every detail, until there wasn’t a single thing out of place.

So, why did it feel like every cell in her body was suddenly vibrating?

“ _Hello, Ben. I was just thinking about you_ … No. That’s weird.” She shook her head, then tried to soften her voice. “ _Do you want to have sex with me? …_ Good God, that’s even worse _._ ”

She ran her hands through her hair, gripping it at her temples, and then shut her eyes.

“ _I love you and I would very much like to come on your cock while it’s inside of me, please_.”

Just hearing the words out loud made her cringe.

“ _I love you and I want to have sex.”_

That wasn’t any better.

“ _Shove your dick in me_.”

Too aggressive. Way too aggressive.

Maybe they should just eat dinner first?

The chicken and vegetables were almost ready. And after spending the last few hours scrambling around the house in a frantic state of sexually-frustrated desperation, she was kind of hungry.

So, they could always start there instead of jumping right into it.

“ _No, Ben, the chocolate-covered strawberries aren’t dessert. I’m the dessert. My vagina, I mean. My vagina is your dessert._ ” She buried her face in her hands, groaning into her palms. “For the love of God, Rey, just tell him you’re horny.”

She put her hands down and took a deep breath, then another. And when that wasn’t enough, she took several more. Her hair falling in soft waves to her shoulders; her lips coated with the slightest touch of gloss. The robe was a deep red, tied taut around her waist and stopping high on her thighs, with wide, bell sleeves and just enough of a neckline to make him wonder what she had on underneath it.

Which, he would soon learn, was a tiny piece of silk fabric that she could barely move in.

“ _Hello, Ben. I have called you here for sex — because I’m horny.”_

Her eyes shot to the window, hearing his Range Rover pulling up the drive, then she spun around, looking up at the clock. It was fourteen minutes before seven, which meant that this man, who had never been early a single day in his twenty-seven years of life — was early.

He was early.

And she wasn’t ready yet.

The candles weren’t even lit!

Rey ran to the kitchen, her bare feet thumping across the floors, and grabbed a long-stem grill lighter off of the counter, then hurried back into the living room and started lighting as fast as she could. Her hands shaking. Finger fumbling the trigger. She had six candles. Two on one of the end tables by the couch. Three on the coffee table. Another on the TV stand. And a big one with a crackling wick next to the recliner.

She was almost done when the driver’s side door shut, and once the last one was burning, she tossed the lighter back onto the kitchen counter, and sprinted towards the front door. Her chest heaving through a slightly constricted breath; her palms all clammy and damp.

So much for eating first.

He was coming up the sidewalk, looking at his phone, which gave her enough time to check her robe and make sure that it was still in place. Then, by the time he was on the porch, she opened the glass storm door, cocking her hip to the side and smiling as he glanced up — his whole body jerking to a stop about a foot away.

“Hi, Ben.” She watched his throat bob up and down in a hard swallow. “I hope you’re hungry.”

 _For me, that is_.

 _Dear God, please don’t say that out loud_.

He blindly shoved his phone into his pocket, not even replying to Luke’s text about having the legal paperwork for the house ready to be signed, “Starving.”

He backed her through the door, a faint tug at the corner of his lips, and for a split second, she almost forgot that this was _her_ show. Too caught up in the way that he was looking at her, even if she wasn’t quite sure what that look meant.

“You smell good,” he leaned in, stealing a slow, languid kiss that had her gripping the front of his t-shirt. His hand circling around her waist and stopping at the middle of her back. “Or is it the candles?”

She grinned into his mouth, breathing out a quiet laugh. “It’s me.”

“Mmm,” he pressed his forehead into hers, smiling. “You sure?”

“Positive.” She pecked his lips, then trailed her fingers down his arm and took his hand. _Guide him where you want him. This is your show._ “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Understatement of the century.

She couldn’t quite get a read on him or what he was thinking. Because his mouth was slightly opened and his eyes were jumping from her lips to her eyes, then back to her lips. Yet, his hand wasn’t even holding hers. It was just there. Heavy and loose and so massively large.

He was letting her lead him though, so that had to be a good sign.

“You have?” He asked as he bumped the toe of his boot on the corner of the couch, too busy staring at her instead of watching where he was going. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I was—” He paused, licking his lips. “Did you need someth—”

“Sit.”

“Okay,” he answered quickly. A little confused, but compliant.

She had both hands on his chest, practically pushing him down onto the couch. Which obviously wasn’t unwelcome. Rey could shove him off the roof and he’d probably thank her for touching him. But this was just — What was she doing?

She stood between his legs, one hand nervously toying with the belt around her robe, wondering if she should take it off now, or if she was moving too fast. Because Rose had told her to leave it on for a bit. That she didn’t want to give away her secret weapon until all of his senses were stimulated. And so far, she had only crossed off smell. And maybe touch. Did her voice count for hearing?

“Do you like this?” She traced a trembling hand down her neckline, stopping where the two halves of the robe met.

He swallowed again, nodding. “Sure.”

_Sure?_

_SURE?_

The word could barely get out of his mouth. But instead of noticing the strain in his voice, or the way his hand had clenched at his side, all Rey had heard was, ‘ _I mean, I guess it’s alright_.’ Which had more to do with her nerves than it did with him, and yet the thought of him not being interested in what she was showing him made her stomach curl into a knot.

“Do you think it — I mean, does it —” She started stumbling over her words, her heart working it’s way up her throat. But luckily before she could blunder it up even more, the timer on the stove started ringing. “Stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Ben nodded dumbly and watched as she disappeared into the kitchen.

If he wouldn’t have been able to hear her, then Rey would’ve screamed bloody murder into the oven. But Ben’s ears weren’t just for decoration. And she didn’t want him rushing into the kitchen thinking she had burnt herself.

No, she wanted him to stay put, right where he was, until she was calm enough to march back in there and finish what she started.

She just needed to breathe first, and maybe take a sip of wine. Except she had forgotten to check the bottle for a turn cap before she bought it, and this one conveniently had a cork, so popping it open would’ve made too much noise.

Water would work though.

She picked up a cup from the dish rack, flipping on the faucet and filling it upto the rim before guzzling it all down. A few drops dripping from her chin and landing on her chest.

“Rey, do you need me to help?”

“No, I’ve got it. Stay there!”

She shook her hands, trying to ring out the nerves, and then took several slow and steady breaths before making her way back to the living room.

Ben was still sitting on the couch with his hands spread across his thighs, rubbing them up and down the fabric. And for a split second, Rey thought that he might be just as nervous as she was. But then she remembered that this was Ben. And sex definitely wasn’t a foreign concept to him. At least not like it was for her. So, it felt more like wishful thinking than an actual possibility.

“Where were we?” She nearly tripped over his foot trying to get back in front of him. Her hand catching herself on his knee.

“I’m — ” He furrowed his brows as his arms shot up, afraid that she was about to fall headfirst into the coffee table. But once she was upright and standing between his legs, he slowly leaned back into the couch, staring up at her, his throat moving. “I’m not sure?”

“Oh.” She drew in a sharp breath. Her brows rising. _Oh, God._ “I, um…”

Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the belt on her robe, struggling to get it out of the Boy Scout knot that she’d tied it in. But once she got it opened, she didn’t even stop to think about it. She just let it slip off of her shoulders and fall to the floor, pooling at her feet.

“Fuck, what are you—”

His eyes dropped to the nightie, making her pores start to pebble, wondering if he liked it or if he thought that she looked as awkward as she felt. It probably would’ve helped if he would say something. But he didn’t. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, gawking at the curve of her waist, then the swell of her breasts, his lungs filling to capacity.

But then his eyes snapped up to hers, so dark yet so soft and so full of — something.

Want, maybe?

She hoped that was what it was, because by the time Ben had exhaled, she was already climbing on top of him. Well, _trying_ to climb on top of him. It would’ve been a little easier if one of the strongest natural fibers wasn’t fighting to keep her legs closed. But she had been wrestling with this nightie all afternoon and she was tired of losing to it, so she forced her legs apart, finally able to straddle his lap, but when she tried to go lower, to actually make contact — that’s when she heard it.

The fabric ripping.

A sound so unmistakable that even _he_ knew what it was.

“Rey, sweetheart, was that—”

_Oh my God._

She cupped his face in her hands and smashed her lips into his, hoping that the swipe of her tongue would make him forget what he’d just heard.

And apparently it was working, because there was a low moan deep in his chest, and then with the softest of sighs, he brought his hands up to her legs, caressing the sides of her calves, before circling his thumbs around her bent knees.

He was being so gentle, so careful, like he had all the time in the world, and Rey, God love her heart, was practically trying to eat him alive. Her quiet whimpers growing needier as she reached down and fumbled with his belt buckle; her fingers trembling as she struggled to get it out of the loop.

She wanted him so bad that she could feel herself clenching, and with one of his hands now on the back of her thigh, and the other moving across the swell of her ass, she was fairly certain that he wanted her too.

But then his fingers found the tear in her nightie.

One that seemed to stretch from her ass all the way up to her lower spine.

And at first she didn’t think that he had noticed it.

Or if he did, then he didn’t care enough to stop kissing her.

Yet, as the nightie rolled up her thighs, bunching above her hips, and she was _finally_ able to sink the rest of the way down onto his groin — Ben decided that _now_ was the time to pull away from her.

“Wait, wait. Hold on.” He moved her hands off of his belt, needing her to stop. Because if she didn’t stop, then he was going to come, and he still didn’t know how far she was wanting this to go. “What is this? What are we doing?”

“Do you not want—” Her eyes locked with his; her lips all red and swollen. “I thought that we—”

“What are you wearing? What is this?” He gasped, trying to catch his breath while his hand reached down to where the nightie had dug into her skin, leaving a red line around her thighs. “It’s squeezing you.”

It was so tight that he couldn’t even get his hand under it. So, he knew that it had to be uncomfortable. And he hated anything making her uncomfortable. Especially when she was on top of him.

But if her face was red before, then it was burning now.

And even though Ben was just going to ask if he could help her get out of it, Rey thought he was rejecting her, and it made her so insecure and so embarrassed that she couldn’t get off of him fast enough.

Not that he made it difficult.

He was barely even holding onto her.

Which just made everything that much worse.

“Wait, sweetheart. Hang on.”

“Forget it. It’s fine” She wiped her eyes, then tried to pull the nightie down as much as it would go, before storming off into the kitchen.

She had meant to go to the bedroom, but was so out of sorts that she ended up turning in the wrong direction. And when she spun around to head back, Ben was already standing in the doorway.

His chest still heaving; his eyes wild with worry.

“What? What did I say? That it looks like it’s squeezing you?”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry I’m not as _skinny_ as I used to be, _Ben._ ” She snapped as her arms came up to cover herself.

“That’s not what I meant.”

 _“_ Or that I’m not as small as,” she choked out a whimper. Her eyes suddenly pooling; her cheeks the lightest tinge of pink. “…as the other girls that you’ve been with. Or that I don’t know how to do whatever it is that they did for you—”

“Baby, stop.” Ben was across the kitchen before she could finish drawing in a breath. His hands reaching up to her face, brushing the tears off her cheeks and tilting her head up to look at him. “Where’s all of this coming from?”

Her mouth quivered, not wanting to say it, yet knowing that this night couldn’t possibly get any worse, so she might as well. “What am I doing wrong?”

“What are you talking about?” His brows knitted.

“Is it the outfit? Or—or are you just not interested? Or what?”

“Rey, what are you—”

“WHY WON’T YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME?!”

Ben’s eyes widened to saucers, blinking once, then twice, then fucking _thrice_ , before opening his mouth to speak. Yet, try as he might, nothing would come out. He just couldn’t seem to find his words. So, all he could do was stare at her. Completely frozen. As if a wire somewhere in the forefront of his mind had suddenly been snipped and he didn’t have the means to move, or respond, or even process what she had asked him.

“Do you not want me?” Rey swallowed hard. Her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that it?”

The wire must’ve reforged itself — because Ben was finally breathing again. Soft and quiet, yet deep. So deep. Making his chest jut out, then fall back in. Yet, his reaction was still delayed. And with Rey already feeling insecure and well-beyond embarrassed, she assumed that his silence meant that he didn’t — and he just wasn’t sure how to tell her.

So, she huffed out a sad scoff and tried to pull away. Eager to go change out of this ridiculous nightie and salvage at least some of her dignity.

But she didn’t even take the first step before Ben’s arm was shooting out to stop her. His hand snaking around her belly as he moved to stand in front of her; his head lowering, kissing her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.

“Is that _really_ what you think?” He whispered softly. His breath warming her lips. “That I don’t want you?”

“You made me stop.” She answered in a watery whimper, then backed up and pulled away from him. Her lashes all wet and matted. “I planned out this whole night for you. All of it. With candles and strawberries and-and this outfit.” She choked out a sob and glanced down at herself, noticing just how hard the nightie was digging into her skin, or the way her left boob looked like it was one deep breath from popping out. “I even made chicken, because — because Rose said that if I wanted to seduce you, then I needed to stimulate all of your senses, and I know how much you like chicken, so I—”

Ben chewed on the inside of his cheek, knowing that if he smiled then she would undoubtedly knee him in the balls. And with every ounce of his blood already pooled _right_ in that general area, he had a feeling that if she did, then she’d end up putting him in the hospital.

So, he bit hard.

Real hard.

“I found this recipe on Pinterest and I made it for you.” She hiccuped and sniffed, then just kept on rambling and rambling and rambling. “And then I cleaned the whole house and washed our sheets and sent Ani to spend the weekend with Finn and Poe — because I was horny and wanted to have sex with you, but I didn’t know how to ask. So I thought that if I could build up enough courage to dress like _this_ , and put myself out there, then I wouldn’t have to keep waiting for you to make a move. I could just do it myself. But then you stopped me, and now I just feel like a fool, and I’m hungry, and I can’t stop crying, and this thing hurts…Ben, it hurts.”

She started clawing at the nightie, trying to pull it at her sides to make a little more room, but she was so nervous that she was sweating, so the fabric was stuck to her skin and none of it would budge.

“Okay, alright, hold on.” Ben stepped forward, his hands trembling as he reached out and started feeling around her body for some kind of zipper, or button, or clasp, or _something_. “Where’s the thing? The zipper?”

“It doesn’t—” Rey panted as she tugged at the hem, causing it to roll up over her hips. “—have one.”

“How much do you like this?”

She shook her head quickly. “Not very much.”

“Good.” He knelt down in front of her, holding her at the waist, then blindly searched for the tear in the back. Once he found it, he yanked it apart, causing the whole seam to split up her spine. The stitches popping one after another. “How’s that?”

She took in a deep breath, bracing herself on his shoulder while the cool air from the kitchen licked up her skin. “Better.”

He nodded, then let out an audible swallow, unsure of where to put his eyes, or if he should get back up or stay down here.

“Are you okay?” He asked her quietly. His hands still on her waist while his eyes decided that up was the more gentlemanly direction.

She answered him with a quick shake of her head.

Her arms hugging herself tighter.

Her body becoming so tense that he could literally feel the rigidity.

And at first, Ben didn’t really understand why.

Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t been dying to rip that thing off of her from the moment her robe hit the floor.

But then it dawned on him.

Like a light bulb gradually getting brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until the glass shattered.

_I’m sorry I’m not as skinny as I used to be, Ben._

“No,” he barely shook his head. His hands skimming down her sides, noticing the slight give in her flesh, then the roundness of her hips. “Fuck no,” he kept whispering as he leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to the reddened ring around her upper thigh, feeling her tremble, before crossing over and doing the same to its twin. “That’s not happening.” He grazed his fingertips along the backs of her legs until he was at the bend in her knee.

And then he stood to his feet, hauling her with him.

“BEN!” She squeaked — throwing one arm around his neck while the other fought to keep the nightie pressed to her front.

“You’re fucking perfect.” He looked her in the eyes. Their face inches apart as he walked her towards the cabinets, then sat her down on the counter.

“What are you talking about?”

His hands came up to cradle her head, standing between her legs, and then he started kissing her so carefully, and so languidly, that she quickly forgot what he had been saying _._ Her thoughts suddenly jumbled; her attention narrowing until the only thing that could exist in her world was him, and his hands, and his mouth, and his tongue.

_God, his tongue._

Yet, right when she was as good as gone, Ben broke away — causing her to sway forward, chasing his mouth. Her eyes clouded and heady; her lips parted. Wondering why on earth he had stopped.

But then, he began his descent.

First, to her cheek. Placing light pecks to her flushed skin. Then, to the underside of her jaw. Nuzzling the bone until her head lolled back and her eyes closed. He was completely devouring her, and her soft, little moans were all the encouragement that he needed to keep doing it. His tongue rolling and flattening and coiling against her throat. Applying just enough pressure to make her preen.

“ _There isn’t a single part of you_ —” He whispered into her shoulder, and then gently pushed the strap to the side, letting it hang by her arm while he kissed the reddened line where it had been. “ _—that isn’t perfect._ ”

“Ben—“

He stood up, meeting her watery gaze. The anguish on her face nearly breaking him. “Do you want me to stop?”

He would in a heartbeat if that was what she wanted.

But when she quickly shook her head, he moved on to her other shoulder, giving it the same, undivided attention. His thumb brushing the strap away from the crease that it had left, then pressing open-mouthed kisses all the way from the base of her neck to the start of her arm.

And she was so enraptured, so dazed, that she didn’t even realize that both straps and slumped to her elbows, or that her hand had lost its grip. Yet, even when she came to, she didn’t try to stop the nightie from falling to the floor. She just let it go.

She was, however, quick to cover herself. Crossing her arms over her breasts and blocking his view. And for a second she thought that Ben would try and stop her. That he would pull her arms away and tell her that she didn’t have to hide from him like she’d read about in at least a half-dozen romance novels.

So, it sort of surprised her when he didn’t.

He didn’t even look down.

He just gave her this soft, dimpled smile.

The same one that always seemed to make her butterflies scatter.

And then kissed her.

Not hard. Not hungrily. Not desperate.

Just a simple kiss.

Tender and delicate and familiar.

“When I said that I loved you, I didn’t mean part of you.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “I meant the _whole_ thing.”

“I know.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. “I know that.”

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She frowned, shaking her head. Her voice coming out so small and so quiet. “I’m just insecure. But I’ll get over it. It’s fine.”

“Insecure about what?” His forehead creased in confusion. “Your body?”

She didn’t answer him.

But she didn’t have to.

“Listen to me.” He looked her dead in the eyes. His hands cupping her cheeks. “Your _body_ brought our little girl into the world.” His thumbs gathered a couple tears that tried to fall, smearing them into her skin. “And it’s the only thing on this earth that I can’t keep my hands off of. So if you don’t want it, then that’s fine — _but I do_."

Her hand came up to hold his wrist. Eyes so watery, yet so bright. “You mean that?”

“Every fucking word.”

She sighed as he kissed her forehead, but then she watched him lean to the left, grabbing the dish of chocolate-covered strawberries and sliding it over to where they were. “What are you — What are you doing?”

“You said you were hungry.” He arched his brow, picking one up, then bringing to her mouth. “And horny, if I remember correctly.”

She smiled as he brushed the strawberry along the swell of her bottom lip, waiting for her to open up. Then, once she did, and her pink tongue flattened to receive it — Ben pulled it away and popped the whole thing into his mouth, smirking like the devil as her eyes widened. Her jaw dropping.

“BEN SOLO!” She squawked, then threw her arms out to swat him, or pinch him, or shove him.

Whichever came first.

Maybe all of them at once.

But he was quick to catch her hands, closing his massive paws around her fingers and causing her eyes to widen for an entirely different reason. A blush creeping up her chest. Heart pattering.

She knew that she could’ve put her arms back down. Because his hold was entirely too loose to stop her if she wanted to cover herself again. But he had this look on his face. This soft, yet hungry look that told her that, yes, he really did mean every fucking word.

_You really do want me, don’t you?_

He lifted her hands up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, and then came forward, letting her arms circle around his neck. “For the record, I didn’t plan that.” He admitted honestly.

“Yeah, I bet you didn’t.” She squinted, pulling him closer.

“I swear,” he pecked the tip of her nose, before playfully singing. “— _by the moon and the stars in the sky_.”

She rolled her eyes, then laughed.

The sweet sound making his whole face light up.

He leaned to the side, taking another strawberry from the dish, only this time when he brought it to her mouth, he let her have it. The pad of this thumb sweeping under her bottom lip. Gathering whatever she would undoubtedly drop.

“Do you trust me?”

“Depends on the day.” She teased, chewing slowly and savoring the flavorsand textures while Ben poked the spot on her ribs that he knew was ticklish. “OKAY! YES!” She giggled, squirming on the counter. “I trust you. You know I trust you.”

Rey swallowed her bite with an audible gulp, then watched as Ben picked up another strawberry, lifting to his mouth. His tongue flattening around the chocolatey tip and teasing it with long, drawn-out passes until it was soft enough to smudge.

Then, with a wet pop and a knowing smirk, he took a step back, and then started easing it towards her chest. His eyes locked on hers; his movements slow. Giving her every chance to stop him if he was making her uncomfortable.

But the only thing uncomfortable was how long he was taking.

Because despite her flushed skin and her labored breaths, Rey was eager to see what he would do, and how it would feel, and where it would lead them.

He began at the top of her chest, right in the center, and then slowly drew a dark-chocolate line down her sternum, between her breasts, and stopping high on her waist. Then, as his mouth curled into a satisfied smirk, he moved to her left areola, watching her chest jut out in a gasp while he painted the pink pigment a deep brown. His fingers moving in slow, barely-there circles, making her nipple harden to a stiff point.

“Ben—”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He tutted, then shifted to the right.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, nipping the skin, then pressed her lips together in a breathy hum, trying not to be loud.

But he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that she was sensitive. That she would be responsive. Which was why, even after there wasn’t any chocolate left to smear, he kept spinning the strawberry around and around and around her little nub. Making her feel every twirl, every turn, every seeded ridge.

And then _finally_ , once Picasso was pleased with his work, he tossed the rest of it into his mouth, then stepped forward — towering over her as his hands smoothed up her thighs. “Still trust me?”

She answered with a jerky nod. Eager for him to continue and thanking God almighty that he didn’t make her wait very long. Because as soon as she quit nodding, he bent down, flattening his tongue at the center of her waist, and then licked a path up the valley of her breasts. Cleaning the mess that he’d made.

“ _You taste so fucking good_ ,” he whispered into her neck.

And even though her insecurities were telling her that it was just the chocolate, the tight pulse in her center wasn’t listening. And apparently neither was she. Because without even realizing that she was doing it, Rey’s fingers had slid into Ben’s thick hair and had started to push his head down, guiding his mouth to her left breast.

Her neediness made him smirk, but he was quick to give her what she wanted. Circling his tongue around her areola and lapping up as much, if not all, of the chocolate before closing his lips around her nipple and giving it a light suck. She’d always been so sensitive. So, he knew he had to be gentle. So gentle. Massaging both of her tits one at a time, and then bringing each one to his mouth and sucking them clean.

But it didn’t take long for it to become too much.

And once it did, Rey was pulling his head up, her right nipple slipping from his lips in a wet pop. Then, with his head in her hands, she surged forward, kissing him so hard, and with so much hunger, that it left both of them lightheaded.

Yet, that still wasn’t enough.

Kissing him wasn’t enough.

She wanted more.

She needed more.

And when she began to whimper, Ben seemed to understand whatever she was trying to say. Because his hand had started gliding up the inside of her leg, making her thighs twitch the closer he got to her center, and then he stepped closer until he was standing flush with the cabinet.

But when his fingers were less than an inch from her mound — he stopped.

And it took every ounce of her restraint not to kill him.

 _“_ Can I _—”_

“YES.”

“Touch you?”

“YES, BEN. YES.”

“So aggressive.” He chuckled as he slipped his hand beneath her mound, feeling her warmth through the fabric.

That, alone, was nearly enough to undo him. Just knowing how wet she already was. Or hearing her soft gasps swiftly turn into heady moans.

But Ben kept himself schooled.

And since it was him — he kept taking his time.

The pads of his fingers drawing slow circles along her clothed labia.

The heel of his palm applying pressure to her clit.

“ _Ben_ —“

She was clinging to his neck, his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer, _needing_ him closer. But then once his fingers moved her panties to the side, and he slowly, _very very slowly_ , pushed his middle finger into her slit, Rey thought she was going to burst.

And not in the way that she had hoped she would.

Because despite having the same sexual appetite as any other twenty-four year old woman, Rey had never been comfortable with using or inserting any kind of toy. So, it had been awhile since anything had been up in there. And regardless of how wet she was, or how gentle he was being, this was still a tight fit and the stretch was surprisingly uncomfortable.

“Wait—” She tensed, causing him to freeze.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Just go slow.”

“Rey, am I hurting you?” He asked again. His tone soft, but serious.

“No, you’re not hurting me. It’s just a little uncomfortable. But don’t stop! I don’t want you to stop.” She tightened her grip, keeping him from pulling away. “I just need — I need to adjust. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Just go slow.”

He nodded, looking a little pale, and then bowed his head, barely even moving as he continued pushing his finger deeper. She was so fucking tight, and her walls were pulsing around him, and he didn’t even want to _think_ about his cock inside of her, because just the thought of that would’ve been enough to make him pop.

So, instead, he put all of his focus into making her come.

His thumb continuing to work her clit while his finger moved back and forth, in and out, carefully working her open until her grip on his shoulder started to relax.

“That feels — That feels much — _Oh God._ ” She pressed her forehead into his temple, her warm breaths puffing against his cheek. “Ben, please. I wanna—”

“What do you want?” He swallowed thickly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I wanna come.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he added a second finger. “I’m working on it.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” she nodded, then sluggishly tried to kiss him. “Just like that.”

“Just like that?” He hooked his fingers, pushing a little harder. His thumb working her little nub so fast that her legs were inadvertently trying to close. “You like that?”

“Yes. Yes, like that. Please, like that.”

“Such a good girl. Letting me make you come.”

“Ben—” She whimpered once the pressure started to build. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He nodded, then kissed her again. He knew just from the little noises she was making. Not to mention the way she was clenching. This tight, squelching grip that just kept getting tighter and tighter and tighter. “ _Fuck_. That’s it. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you come.”

Her hips bucked up on the counter, the first twitch nothing more than a tease. But then he picked up speed, drawing it out of her, desperately trying to give her what she wanted. Her whispers of ‘ _please don’t stop, please don’t stop’_ becoming fast breaths, then strangled cries, then one, loud chest-deep wail that carried her right over the edge.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he purred softly. His eyes dazed in pure, unbridled admiration as his pace began to slow. His fingers gently soothing her through the aftershocks. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She smiled as her forehead nuzzled into his. Her skin warm and glowing. “Then, take me to the bedroom.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I meant.”

“Bedroom.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He withdrew a soaked hand from her folds, then lifted her off the counter. Her legs and arms hooking around his waist and neck; her mouth back on his, making it hard for him to see where he was going.

So, when they finally reached the bedroom, Ben walked right into the doorframe, popping his elbow on the trim and grunting out a very nonchalant “ _Ow_ ” that had both of them snickering.

Rey reached down to rub away the ache while he attempted to toe off his boots. And they nearly fell twice before they made it to the bed. But once his knees bumped the edge, he was following her down to the mattress — careful not to crush her as they kissed their way to the pillows.

“Did you spray Febreze?” He chuckled into her lips, making her let out a nasally laugh. Her eyes all squinty. “You did, you dork.”

“Is it stimulating your senses?”

“More like stimulating my sinuses,” he teased, earning another laugh. “Tell Rose that I want a prescription for Zyrtec.”

“You can buy Zyrtec over-the-counter. Now, take off your shirt.”

Ben reached behind his neck, tugged his shirt over his head, then pitched it in the general direction of the clothes hamper, before settling in between her legs.

But now that they were here, in bed, and her soaked heat was grinding against the front of his jeans and her hands were fumbling with his belt, the reality of what she wanted was starting to sink in.

She wanted to have sex.

Not that he didn’t, of course.

Because he did.

He definitely fucking did.

But this was Rey. _His_ Rey. And he knew that this wasn’t just about sex for her. For him either. But especially not for her. And this was something that he wanted to get right. He _had_ to get it right. Yet, he was so terrified of fucking it up that by the time she had his belt loose and his button open, Ben was on the verge of a panic.

Afraid that he might come too soon.

Or that she might not come at all.

Or God forbid he hurt her.

Not to mention—

“ _Fuck,_ sweetheart, hold on.” He put a hand over hers, stopping her from unzipping him. “I don’t,” he squeezed his eyes shut. Each breath coming out harder than the last. “Baby, I don’t have a condom.”

“You’re clean though.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Right?”

“Yes. I’m clean.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes. His hand cradling the side of her face. “I’d never touch you if I wasn’t. But that’s not the point.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not rejecting you, so get that out of your pretty, little head.”

She furrowed her brows, frowning. “Then, what are you doing?”

“Giving myself blue balls, apparently.” He huffed out a laugh, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll go to Lando’s and buy—”

“I don’t want you to wear a condom.” She blurted nervously. Her voice coming out rushed. “I don’t — want you to wear one.”

Ben drew in a deep breath. His throat moving through a swallow. “I love you. And believe me, I want this just as much, if not more, than you do. But I also know,” he watched her face quickly sink. “Just listen to me,” he kissed her softly, his thumb stroking her jaw. “I also know that the second I’m inside you, it’s going to be really fucking hard for me to pull out. And I don’t think you want me coming in—“

“I do.” She tugged at his zipper, the sudden and completely unintentional _thrust_ making him let out a deep, somewhat strangled grunt. “Sorry,” she grimaced sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Did that — Did that hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“ _I’m fine._ ” He shook his head, sounding not fine.

But he _was_ fine.

He was definitely fine.

He just needed a minute.

Two minutes at most.

But Rey didn’t even give him two seconds, because the thought of him being in pain had her hand slowly inching lower until she was cupping his bulge through his jeans. Trying to ease what she wrongly assumed was discomfort.

But once she started kneading the head of his cock, Ben’s hand shot up to grab her wrist. “ _Shit_ , _fuck_ , okay. Alright. Okay.”

“Doesn’t that feel good?"

“Mhm.” He nodded quickly, moving her hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing her fingers. “Yes. That feels good. But you have to stop.”

“Why?” She swallowed hard, biting her lip. “I don’t—I mean, if I’m pressuring you, then tell me. Because I’m not trying to make you do something that you don’t—”

“Pressuring me?” Ben laughed incredulously. “Sweetheart, you’re not pressuring me. I want this. I told you that. I just don’t want to risk getting you pregnant with a baby that you’re not ready for. That’s all.”

“That _I’m_ not ready for?” She raised up, causing him to scoot back. “What do you mean that _I’m_ not ready for? What about _you_?”

It was a little hard for Ben to speak with his foot in his mouth.

Yet, somehow he managed.

“That’s not up to me.”

 _Shit_.

“Wow.” Rey scoffed, then tried to get away from him. But he was just too daggone large, and she was bumping into him every direction she tried to move in. “I’m glad to know that I’m still on my own, Ben.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Each one sailing across the room like a boomerang. And as boomerangs usually do, those words circled right back around. Bringing a world of guilt along with them.

“I’m sorry.” Rey hurried forward, taking his face in her hands. Her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay.” His arms came around to hold her, pecking her lips. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” She whimpered, shaking her head. “You didn’t deserve that. And I promise, I didn’t mean it. I know you’re with me. I know that I’m not alone anymore. And that you love me, and I—”

“Rey, look at me.” He reached over and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it. And I’m sorry if I made it seem like I don’t want to make that decision with you. Because I do. I want to. And when you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting.”

“But what if you’re not ready when I’m ready?” She knitted her brows. “You can’t just put all of that on me. I want to know what _you_ want.”

He kissed the crease in her forehead, trying to smooth it out. “I want whatever you want.”

“Stop doing that!” She frowned, quickly growing frustrated. “Stop making everything about me! Maybe _I_ want to give _you_ what _you_ want. Have you ever thought about that?”

“Rey…”

“Has it ever occurred to you that making you happy is what would make me happy? Or that if you wanted another baby, then I would want to give you one?”

“I don’t want you doing something you’re not ready for just because I want it.”

“How can I know what you want if you won’t tell me?!”

“I’m trying to tell you!”

“No, you’re making everything about me.” She jabbed her finger into her bare chest. “What _I_ want. What _I_ need. WHY WON’T YOU EVER LET ANYTHING BE ABOUT YOU?”

 _“_ BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” He fired back a little harsher than he had intended, before letting out a sigh and taking it back down a few notches. “Because I love you.” He shrugged. “And I’m always going to put you before me. That’s what I should’ve done from the very beginning, from the second I met you — but I didn’t.” He shook his head. His eyes welling. “And that was a mistake. Not putting you first was a mistake. So, if you want to get mad at me, sweetheart, then get mad at me. But I’m not making that same mistake twice.”

She gave him a sad smile, then started reaching for him.

“Yes, Ben.” She whispered softly, running her hands up his chest, snaking them around the side of his neck, then brushed her lips against his. “You will.”

“No, Rey.” He lowered her back down onto the pillows. His hand skimming down the outside of her thigh until he reached the waistband of her underwear. “I won’t.”

“ _Mmm_. Yes, you — Yes, you will.”

“No,” He whispered into her sternum. His breath hot on her skin. His lips dragging and kissing and pressing until they closed around a hardened nipple, making her back arch and her breath hitch. “I won’t.”

“ _Ben, please_.” She swallowed thickly. Her body giving an involuntary jerk as he suckled the other nipple. The suction somehow too much yet not enough.

“Please, what?” He grinned as he made his way down to her stomach, mouthing and licking each faded stretch mark. “Please, put you first? _”_ His hand reached up, feeling the rigid texture, admiring the way each one streaked her flesh like little, pale lightning bolts. “Because I will.”

“No.” She moaned as he flattened his tongue to her pelvis, right above her waistband, then _rolled_ it just to show her that he could. “That’s not what — _Ben, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop_.”

His lips curled into a smirk as he rose up onto his knees. His fingers hooking under the elastic; his eyes searching hers for permission. And when she lifted her hips, letting him know that he had it, he slowly began to peel the black lace down her thighs, over her calves, before slipping them off of each foot.

He tossed them in the same direction as his shirt, then let his hand fall to both of her knees, his throat bobbing in a hard gulp as he carefully spread them open.

Then, once he knew that she was ready, he started moving back down. His lips trailing along the inside of her thigh, working towards her center. His arms slipping under her legs.

He held her at the waist and pulled himself forward on his elbows, then for no less than a breath, he tried to admire her soaked folds — relishing in their softness, their warmth, the way they glistened like perfect, little petals.

But a breath was all that she would give him, because as soon as that breath brushed across her lips, tickling her skin, Rey was begging him to quote, “ _Put me f-first. Please, Ben, God, just put me first. I want you to put me first.”_

He didn’t even have it in him to tease her. Not whenever her voice was cracking, and her core was clenching, and each pleading whimper sounded like it was a step away from a sob.

No, that smug bravado that he’d had less than a second ago was suddenly nowhere to be found. Replaced by the simple need to give his girl whatever she wanted, however many times she wanted it.

The first pass of his tongue, up the entire length of her slit, had her hand slamming onto the mattress and fisting their Febreeze-soaked sheets. Her head thrown back into the pillow; her lungs catching and holding, then finally releasing. He put his hand on her pelvis, holding her still, and then started out slow and steady, just how she liked it, licking at an almost lethargic pace and whispering praises into her clit.

_My favorite flavor._

_So perfect._

_Such a good girl letting me lick your tight, little cunt._

And from there, he became a man on a mission. Not caring how long it took or how long he’d be down there. If it was ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour, a fucking week. Didn’t matter to him. Just as long as she got to come at least one more time before his balls popped off.

Maybe even again after that.

“Yes. Yes. There. Right there. Oh, God. Your fingers. Finger me. Ben, use your fingers.”

She could hear him chuckling, but she couldn’t help it. She needed more. She needed less. She had no clue what she needed. She just knew he better not stop. Because if he stopped, then she really would kill him. And then she’d just have to find a way to bring him back to life. Which could take a while. And she — _Oh, Sweet Jesus. God, yes._

He grinned as his middle finger slid inside her with ease, his tongue on her clit, furling and coiling in languid turns like the world’s strongest corkscrew. And then right when she thought she couldn’t get any wetter, Ben hooked his finger. Working it in and out. Stretching her walls. Making her hips rise up off the bed, then sink back down.

“ _I will kill — every girl — that you’ve ever done this to_.” She vowed.

Still on her killing spree.

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever done this to.”

“What?” She panted. “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.” He lifted his head, meeting her eyes, and then added a second finger. “Just you.”

“God, Ben.” She fell back, rolling her hips to meet his fingers. “I don’t. I don’t. I don’t remember you being this good.”

He arched his brow, then blew a steady stream of cool air onto her lips.

“I’m not sure if that was a compliment… or an insult.”

“Comp. Compli. Compliment. Compliment. It was a _complimmm_.”

He drew her clit into his mouth, sucking lightly, and then proceeded to waylay her little bundle of nerves with a string of quick kitten licks — the repetitive stop and go causing her to writhe above him. And he knew that she was getting close because, again, like in the kitchen, he could feel her clenching. Each spastic pulse bringing her closer and closer to another release.

But instead of chasing it — Rey started pulling him up.

“I want you. Inside me. I want you inside me.” She rose to meet him, his body crawling over hers, his hands digging into the mattress at her sides, and then she kissed him so hard that their teeth clashed. Tasting herself on his tongue.

“Sweetheart, I told you, I don’t have a—”

“I’m on birth control.” She tried to work his jeans over his hips. Thanking the maker that he wasn’t trying to stop her.

“Yes. And we have a five year old who says that doesn’t matter.” He worked his fingers back into her tight heat. His breaths ragged as he tried to make sure that she was properly stretched. “So, if this is what you want, then I need — I need to know that if I get you— _fuck, baby, wait._ ”

He nearly choked once he felt her reach into his boxers, her fingers delicately stroking the thick veins up his shaft. But thank _fuck_ she stopped. Her whole body suddenly freezing while her right hand cupped the head of his cock.

“Don’t. Don’t move.” He pressed his face into her cheek, his eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, Rey. Don’t move.”

She soothed her nails along his scalp, whispering. “It’s okay if you come.”

“No,” His voice was quiet and breathy. “It’s not.” He carefully switched their hands, squeezing the base of his dick in a desperate attempt to preserve his stamina. “I want this to be good,” he swallowed audibly. “I want to be good.”

She turned her neck to the side, kissing his damp forehead. “Do you trust me?”

He wheezed out an airy laugh, “Depends on the day.”

She wrapped both arms around his shoulders, smiling up at the ceiling. “Then, trust me when I tell you that I don’t care if you come in five seconds or in five minutes. Just as long as you come.”

“Yeah, well, that’s very generous of you, sweetheart.” He snorted, starting to sound a little less strained and winded. “But there are two things — No, three things in this world that I never want to be.”

“And what are they?” She asked as she laid her head over on his.

“A shitty husband.”

She grinned. “You won’t be.”

“A deadbeat dad.”

She stroked the shell of his ear, “You’re not.”

“Or a minute man.”

“What’s a minute man?”

He smirked into her cheek. “A man that comes in a minute.”

Her chest shook through a laugh, feeling his head burrowing into her neck as he laughed with her. “You’re underestimating yourself.”

“And you’re underestimating how tight you are.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, blushing as she circled the tip of her middle finger around the nape of his neck.

She didn’t want him to feel like he had to give her some porn-worthy performance. Or that she expected to be railed their first time back together. Because she didn’t. She just wanted him. And since he’d already made her come, having him was all that was left.

“Plus, it’s you.” He whispered quietly.

The sound of his voice, so forlorn and exhausted, just made her that much more determined to get him inside of her.

Because not only did she deserve it — but so did he.

“What do you need to know?” She asked him suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“You said that if this was what I wanted, then you needed to know something.”

“Ah,” he sighed into her neck. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“Oh, you know. I’m just wondering if you’re gonna hate me if I get you pregnant. Nothing major.”

She hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve never been able to hate you, Ben.”

“Yeah, well, not really a big fan of you being mad at me either.”

She smiled as she smoothed her fingers through his hair, then took a deep breath. Wanting to ease his worries. “I’m not ready for a baby right now.” She admitted honestly. “But even if we did get pregnant, I’m not going to be mad at you. I would never be mad at you over something like that. I mean, if anything, I would just want to know that we could do it. Raise two kids. Feed two kids. We don’t even have a third bedroom!”

Ben let go of the death-grip he had on his cock, then raised up, hovering over her. His hands pressing into the mattresses beside her ribs; his hair draped around his face. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Rey frowned in confusion. “Okay what?”

“I want to make a compromise.”

“Oh?” She wiggled beneath him, getting comfortable. “I’m listening.”

“I _am_ ready for a baby.” He confessed without missing a beat. “I don’t need to wait. I don’t need to think about it. I’m already ready.” He searched her eyes, watching them widen. “And the only reason I’m even telling you this is because if I do happen to get you pregnant, I don’t want you thinking I did it on purpose.”

Her lips threatened to a grin, but she controlled it. “I’m still listening.”

“If you don’t want me to wear a condom, then I won’t. If you do, then I’ll put my clothes back on and I’ll drive around town until I find one.”

“Maybe more than one.” She teased, causing him to let out a quiet chuckle. “But go on.”

“If you want me to pull out—”

“I don’t.” She quickly shook her head. “I want you to come inside me.”

He scrunched his face, clamping his eyes shut. “Please, don’t say that right now.”

“Sorry.” She twisted her mouth — trying not to smile. “Please, proceed.”

“You don’t have to seduce me.” He bit his lip. His eyes still closed. Then, once he calmed back down, he opened them. Watching her stare up at him. Her hair falling around her head in a halo. “Do I appreciate it? Of course. Do I love that you went through all this trouble just to be with me? Absolutely. But you don’t have to. If you’re hungry and horny, then just tell me.”

“I’m hungry and horny.”

“I’ll get to that in a moment.” He smirked. “Now, I’ve told you what I want. Would you agree?”

“Somewhat.” She drummed her fingers on her chest. “But we should probably do a recap. So, let me get this straight — you want a baby even though we don’t currently have enough room for another one.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll come inside me if I want you to. Which I do.”

“Again, we don’t have to voice that right now. But also yes.”

“I don’t have to seduce you, but since I’m obviously really good at it…”

“Obviously.” He nodded.

“—you’re okay with me surprising you here and there.”

“That is correct.”

“Oh, and if I’m ever hungry or horny, then all I have to do is tell you.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.” He grinned down at her, then licked his lips. “But there’s one more thing.”

“No, we’re still not doing anal.”

“Anymore.” He shot back with a smug grin. Unable to resist.

“We never did.”

“Oh, we did.”

“Accidentally sticking it in the wrong hole doesn’t count as anal, Ben.”

“I don’t know about you, but that was the best three seconds of my life. So, I’m counting it.” He countered. “And for the record — back then, I didn’t know where _any_ of your holes were.”

“Will you just tell me what the other thing is?” She narrowed her eyes, feigning annoyance. “I’m hungry and horny and it’s been well over moment.”

“So impatient.” He smirked before reaching down and sliding two fingers through her folds, making her suck in a breath. “This next part is important, so I want you to listen.”

“ _Mmm._ ”

“Are you listening?” He arched his brow. His fingers pushing deep inside her channel while his thumb teased her clit.

“Yes. Mmhm. I’m lis — I’m listening.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he looked her in the eyes, watching her lips part in a pant. “—stop taking your birth control.”

She blinked as her hips jerked. “What?”

“Whenever you’re ready for a baby, stop taking it.” He repeated, then removed his hand from her slit. “Don’t tell me that you did it. Don’t even make it a thing. Just stop taking them.”

She raised up on her elbows. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He swallowed before coating her wetness along his hardened length. “I know that probably sounds batshit. But to me it makes sense.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He frowned, thinking that this would’ve taken a little more convincing.

“Yes. Fine.” She shrugged. “I mean, I think this is a very _Ben-like_ compromise. But I sort of see where it would make sense to you. Because, I guess, in your mind, we’re still making the choice together. You’ve just already made yours, and now you’re willing to wait for me to make mine.”

“Exactly.”

“I can live with that.” She eased up, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to discuss? Because if not—”

“Nah, I think I’m good.” He followed her back down to the pillows. His hand reaching out and moving her hair off her face. “But before we — before we do this, if it hurts, or if I’m hurting you, we’re stopping.”

She bobbed her head, drawing in a deep breath, and braced herself for the head of his cock, knowing that with his size and girth, the first breach would undoubtedly be painful. And if it wasn’t painful, then it would definitely be uncomfortable.

Yet, when her eyes squeezed shut, expecting to feel all ten inches of him pushing in — nothing happened.

She wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t even sure if _time_ was moving.

So, her eyes fluttered right back open, wondering what he was waiting for, or if something was wrong.

“Ben?”

He was staring down their bodies, his hand fisting his lengthy shaft while his other arm supported his weight. And for a split second, she thought that he was going to back out. That either he was _that_ afraid of hurting her. Or his nerves were getting the best of him. But then after an audible gulp, Ben carefully brought his cock down to her folds, running the tip through her slick, before his eyes lifted up to hers. “I’ll go slow.” He whispered, swallowing again. “And if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

She bent her elbow, cupping her hand on his cheek. “It’s okay. I know.”

He nodded, but she could tell that he wasn’t entirely convinced. But as his chest swelled in a breath, he steadily began to ease forward, his length sliding in just an inch. Maybe even less than that.

Yet, it was enough that Rey was clinging to him. The anticipation along with her nervousness becoming too much too fast until she was just as tense as he was.

“Relax,” he cooed softly, kissing her temple. “I’ll take care of you.”

Funny he should say that — considering how he was the one trembling.

But it was endearing, having him try to soothe her when he _clearly_ wasn’t fairing any better. And with him trying so hard to please her, she simply didn’t have the heart to point out that between the two of them, she was the picture of relaxation.

Instead, she just pulled his head down and kissed him. Hoping that would ease some of hisworries.

“Am I hurting you?” He laid his hand on her pelvis like a heat pad, his hips slowly rocking into her, and then lowered his fingers until his thumb was working her clit. “Tell me if I am.”

“You’re not.” She promised. Her lips moving against his. Half-kissing. Half-lingering. “Keep going.”

The more he stimulated her nub; the wetter she got. And once she was past the point of dripping, it was much easier for him to add a few more inches. The stretch uncomfortable, but not unbearable. But then, once that discomfort seeped into pleasure, his gentle rocking turned into one, hard thrust — and he was in.

Her whole body pulled taut from the sudden fullness.

Her breath lodged in her throat.

“ _FUCK,_ ” Ben’s hand was shaking as he rushed to grab her hip, trying to keep her from moving. His face pressed against hers.

Rey tried to force herself to stay still, knowing by his choked whimpers that he was close to coming and was doing his damndest to keep from it. But staying still was nearly impossible whenever her heart was stuttering, and her toes had curled, and every inch of her skin just kept getting warmer and warmer and warmer. Plus, even though Rey wished that she could somehow make this easier on him, there was absolutely _nothing_ that she could do to stop her walls from pulsing around him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her cheek. “I’m trying.”

“Ben, it’s okay.” She turned her head towards him, kissing him tenderly. Her arm curled around his neck while her other hand brushed his hair out of his face. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make it good. I’ll make it good for you.” He promised, so out of breath that he was stumbling over his words. “Just tell me if — tell me if you need me to stop.”

Before she had time to offer any kind of reassurance, she felt him gently begin to pull out, the careful drag of his cock taking her breath with it. And then with his lips ghosting overs hers — he drove right back in, causing her spine to arch up off the bed and a sweet, little moan to purr from her throat.

“I love you.” He slid his hand down to her clit. His fingers drawing tight, counterclockwise circles until it felt like her whole body was convulsing. “So much. I love you so much.”

“ _Yes. Yes_.” She gripped the back of his neck. Her voice coming out all airy and stifled. “ _I love — love you too_.”

She could feel every perfect ridge of his cock hitting her right where she needed him. Each thrust bringing her closer and closer to coming. And she was so caught up in the headiness of it, the pressure, the fullness, the warmth, that she almost didn’t see the look on his face. The strain creasing his forehead. Or how his eyes were clamped shut.

“Ben?” She called to him breathlessly, struggling to speak.

He was giving her everything he had. All of him. But she could tell that it was more of a punishment than a reward, and that he was treating his pleasure as if it were something that had to be earned, while hers didn’t.

“Ben, I’m c-close.” She gasped into his mouth. “Look at me.”

She didn’t think he would, at least not without some hesitance, but he did. 

His eyes fluttered open, letting her finally see just how glassy they were. 

But she watched as his gaze moved down to where they were joined, then back up to her face, almost like he was afraid that he had done something wrong. And she wasn’t sure what bothered her the most. Him thinking that he wasn’t good enough. Or him thinking that he didn’t deserve to come until she did.

“I’m so close,” she stroked his face, then tucked his hair behind his ear. “You can let go. It’s okay.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head, refusing to listen. And with him being so stubborn, she was half-tempted to just fake an orgasm, regardless of being on the brink, just so he would stop senselessly punishing himself.

But she knew that faking an orgasm would hurt him just as much.

So, she would just have to do this the hard way.

“Stop.” She put her hand on his chest, making him freeze.

His eyes started darting around in their sockets, searching her face. “Am I hurting you?“

“No.” She pecked his lips, then eased up, causing him to slip out of her with a squelching pop. “I want you to lay on your back.”

“What?” He looked so adorably confused — with his hair all wet and matted to his forehead and his brows knitted. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just get on your back.” She put her hands on his shoulders, doing her best to flip him over even though it was like trying to move Mount Rushmore. “I want to be on top.”

And it wasn’t that she wanted to be on top because she _enjoyed_ being on top.

Because if she had to take her pick, then she would very much like to remain on the bottom.

She just didn’t have the confidence to be on top.

Or the skill, really.

And since she had only done it _maybe_ three or four times in her life, all of which happened nearly half a decade ago, she wasn’t too sure she could do any of this.

But since Ben apparently wouldn’t listen to a word that she was saying, aside from _stop —_ she was willing to improvise.

Once he was on his back, she climbed on top of him, spine ramrod straight, with her hands on his chest and her wet center hovering over his lower stomach, straddling his shaft. She could feel it bob every few seconds, just a slight jolt that Ben seemed to be very aware of. But she didn’t immediately touch it, unless it brushed against her soaked core on its own volition. Instead, she made him raise up so she could put a pillow under his head, and then she leaned over him, tucking her hair behind her ear, and kissed him on the lips. Moving slow. Lightly pulling the bottom one into her mouth. Making his cock bob again.

“You’re a good man,” she whispered softly. “You’re good to me. You’re good to your father. Your friends.” She traced the tip of her finger along his jaw, then down his neck, before splaying her hand across his throat, massaging the muscle with her thumb. “Our little girl.”

She felt him swallow.

“So, why is it so hard for you to be good to yourself?” She asked him as she carefully ran her folds along his length. “Is it because you think that you’re not worthy of it? Because you are. Or is it because you think that you have to keep punishing yourself in order to deserve what you have? Because you don’t.”

That must’ve hit the mark, because he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Look at me,” she cupped his chin, lightly stroking his jaw. “Ben, look at me.”

He licked his lips, drawing the bottom one into his mouth, and then despite it taking him a second, he finally glanced at her.

“You are a good man,” she told him again, much firmer this time. “And you deserve to be loved, and protected, and taken care of. And I’m going to do all of those things, and then some. Because I love you. And I want you. And because I know _exactly_ how much you’re worth — even if you don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“No,” she shook her head, feeling his hands reach up to her hips. “Sweetheart, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I just want you to treat yourself better. And I want you to let people do nice things for you without thinking you have to earn it.”

His throat rolled in a gulp.

“So, I also want to compromise.” She carefully raised up, watching his eye follow her every move in somewhat of a daze. And then she took his hardened length, stroking it once, then twice, rolling her hand over the tip, before guiding him to her entrance. “Are you listening?”

“Y-Yes, _fuck._ ” His head fell back onto the pillow as she sunk down, taking as much of him as she could. “Yes.”

“Good.” She rode him slowly, making sure that he felt every single inch of her. And then after she set a pace that she could handle, she started rubbing her clit hard and fast and with purpose, trying to catch up to him. Or at least not be too far behind him. “Because I want…I want you to come.”

She laid a hand on his chest, noticing how he shook with every harsh breath, or the way his eyes tried to roll each time she squeezed his length. It made her even more eager to please him. Just the sight of him beneath her, aching for release. Or all of the sounds that he was making. The deep grunts. The raspy sighs. The quiet moans. She was determined for him to feel good, and she was determined to be the one to make him feel good.

But in order to do that — he had to let go.

“I want you to stop thinking,” she paused to breathe. “…that love…is something you have…to earn.” She gasped, feeling her core clenching. Her warm slick dripping down his length. “Or that…you’re not allowed make…a mistake.”

“ _Fuck_.” He whimpered as she came down and kissed him. Her hands wiping the sweat from his face. “ _Don’t stop_. _Please, don’t stop._ ”

 _“_ I want you to give me,” she ghosted her lips, swiping her tongue against his. “…all of you. The best…and worst parts…of you. I want everything.” Her legs were starting to tire already, but she pushed through it. Not willing to give up. “I want you to let me love you…just as much…as you love me. And I want you to believe me…when I tell you…that you’re worthy of it.”

“ _Mmm, that’s… that’s it. God. Fuck. That feels good”_

“Are you listening to me?” She slowed her pace, barely dragging herself up and down his length.

“Yes.” He jerked his head in a nod. “I’m listening. I’ll let you.”

“Let me what?” She sank down, squeezing him.

“ _Love, fuck!_ ” He choked on a moan. His eyes watering as he wrapped his arms around her. His hands splayed across her back. “I’ll let you love me. I will. I’ll let you love me.”

She slowly brushed her lips across his, swallowing his pitiful whimpers. “I want you to let me…take care of you.” She cradled his face in her hands, trying to catch each tear slipping from the corners of his eyes. “Not just…because I want to…but because… we’re a team. You take care of me.” She brushed her thumbs along his damp cheeks. “I take care of you.”

“Okay,” he croaked, nodding his head. His jaw wobbling. “Okay.”

“And if you can do…all of that,” She was about to come. She knew she was about to come. “…and you can promise me…that you’ll forgive yourself… then whenever you’re ready—”

The waves of an earth-shattering orgasm suddenly pulsed through her center, making her cry out in a strangled moan and nearly lose her balance. She slumped forward onto him, feeling her thighs twitch, and her ears ring, and her skin become so hot that she couldn’t breathe. Yet, she still didn’t stop. She just kept rocking back into him. Despite the spasms. Despite the exhaustion. Despite the overstimulation. She wasn’t going to stop until he reached his own release.

“You’re still…holding on.” She placed open-mouthed kissing up his jaw, his cheek, then over to his ear. “Let go.” She raised up slightly just so she could see his face. “Baby, let go.”

His eyes were dancing around, taking every bit of her in.

His hands trembling and he tried to find which part of her he wanted to hold onto.

_“I’m gonna, fuck, Rey, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.”_

“Good boy.” She lapped at his mouth, making him choke out a breath. “That’s it. Come for me. I want you to come for me.”

“ _I love you. I love. Rey, I love you._ ”

“I love you too, baby. And this cock,” she sank down on him harder, hoping that her blush just blended in with her glow. “…is mine. It’s all mine.”

“ _Yes._ _It’s yours. Fuck, it’s yours.”_

“So, come for me. Let me take care…of what’s mine.”

“ _Oh, fffffuck. Shit, I’m coming. Baby, I’m coming_.”

She sat up on her haunches, feeling the head of his cock begin to swell as his muscles tensed and twitched. And it was so powerful, just being able to watch him come apart. The way that his lips parted and his neck tightened as his release rippled through him. Or how his chest rumbled with a deep groan as he emptied himself inside of her, leaving her womb feeling warm and sated and full of him.

She could do this forever.

She wanted to do this forever.

“What do you,” He panted. “…want me to ask you?”

“Hmm?” She sagged forward, lazily nuzzling her face against his.

“You said…that if I can do…all that stuff.” He tried to speak, then had to pause. His heart pounding so hard he felt lightheaded. “…and promise…to forgive myself…”

“Ah, that.”

“Yes. That.”

She smiled softly, feeling the heat from his quick breaths brush across her skin. “Then, whenever you’re ready,” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “…to ask me to marry you…” Then, his lips. Listening to him let out a soft whimper. “…then, I’ll say yes.”

It took a fraction of a second for his eyes to glisten. His jaw wobbling as he struggled to decide between a breath and a swallow, yet couldn’t, so he just ended up choking. “You mean it?”

“Every. _fucking._ word.” She tore a page out of his book, and then kissed the tears off of his face. His softening cock slowly slipping out of her. “Now, I’ve told you what I want.” She arched her brow, then pressed their foreheads together, smirking at him. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Mmm. Somewhat.” He grinned, then kissed the tip of her nose before flipping them over until she was underneath him. Her arms pinned by her head. A smile on her face. “But we should probably do a recap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know what you thought. 
> 
> Your feedback is what keeps giving me the courage to write.
> 
> ❤️❤️


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